


Playing With Fire

by peppydragon



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Character Death, Chloe POV, Criminal Behavior, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Relapse, Sexual Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Violence against women, accidental murder, alcohol use, bisexual Rachel, infidelity (Rachel cheating on Frank), lesbian chloe, minor depictions of racial inequality police brutality and mental health issues, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppydragon/pseuds/peppydragon
Summary: Chloe has been living in Los Angeles for close to a year, hiding from her old ties and barely making ends meet. She never expected her life to change, but it does when a tempest in the shape of a woman pulls her onto a dancefloor in an abandoned warehouse. What begins as a simple crush becomes a bruised love affair while unseasonable fires start to burn across LA.| Before the Storm AU | parallels/callbacks to BtS |





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything! I swear! All mentions of characters and social media that lie within are copywritten to their respective owners. This story is purely for entertainment.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

The first thing that Chloe noticed about the girl was her hair - long and blonde, tied up into an ornate high ponytail. It coiled and curved with each move as if alive, as if the woman had trained it to do so or practiced the flourishes in the mirror for hours. Chloe watched from the bar, the drink in her hand nearly gone. She had been nursing it for close to an hour because she was too broke to buy another and too combative to let anyone else buy one for her. It was a precarious balancing act she would suffer eternally, it seemed.

The blonde girl who had stolen her attention almost an hour ago had disappeared from her spot near the stage, her serpentine hair given a rest. Chloe sighed softly, turning her attention back to the bartender. He was pretending not to be annoyed at Chloe's presence, but his lip tugged downward a little everytime she looked at him.

"Two rum and cokes," someone shouted right next to Chloe's ear, making her wince and turn her withering glare to the inconsiderate ass who-

Chloe's mouth went dry. It was the blonde.

"Oh, shit, sorry," the girl smirked slightly at her. She didn't look sorry, but Chloe was more distracted by her eyes. Even through the pulsing lights and shadows, Chloe could see the pale brown shot through with icy green. They were beautiful in spite of the smudged kohl and sagging fake lashes.

"It's... fine," she answered belatedly, swallowing the rest of her drink. Her chest was hurting, but she wasn't quite sure why. She nodded to the bartender, who looked relieved when she stood.

Before she could get away from the bar, the blonde girl's hand circled her arm, pulling her back. "Hey, don't run off on my account," she laughed, voice huskier than Chloe would have expected. Her two rum and cokes slid in front of her, and she absently pushed one toward Chloe's vacated chair. The girl slid into the chair beside it, fiddling in her pockets for a pack of cigarettes. The bartender raised an eyebrow when she lit up, the lighter's flame making her features flicker. "Do you smoke?" she asked Chloe, raising her voice over the noise. She held the pack out, offering one.

"No smoking in here, Rachel," the bartender sighed, sounding defeated already.

"Go wipe a counter down, Brandon; at least it's not pot this time."

The bartender, Brandon, sent a whithering glare toward Chloe. "No smoking." And then he went further down the bar to where a group of bachelorettes was shrieking and cackling over empty shot glasses.

Chloe let out a sigh, feeling just as overwhelmed as Brandon looked when she slid back into her chair, taking one of the offered cigarettes. Rachel flicked her lighter and extended it, her lips just barely twitching upward into a smile as Chloe leaned toward the flame. When the blonde released it and put it back in her pocket, she said, "Wouldn't it have been awful if I decided to light your hair on fire right then?"

Chloe nearly choked on her drag. "Dude, what the fuck?"

She was laughing, leaning in toward Chloe so close that she could see the slight chinks in the girl's armor. Her makeup had come off with sweat around her nose, her flushed skin shining through. Her lipstick had smudged near the left corner of her mouth, just a faint blush of color. It almost looked like a healing bruise, a bite to the lip that had been too hard. "I'm not trying to be an ass," Rachel was saying, still grinning widely, "I was just curious."

Chloe cleared her throat, tapping the tip of her cigarette with a finger, letting the ash hit the bar. "Curious about lighting a stranger's hair on fire? I'm not sure, but I might need to report that to the cops or something."

"You gonna nark on me?" the blonde breathed, feigning surprise with a hand to her chest. "Well, well. I didn't take you for a tattle-tale, Blue Eyes."

"Does nicknaming people in bars get you many numbers?" Chloe replied, picking up the second drink and sipping. The sharp sweetness stung her tongue, but she soldiered through it.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she admitted, taking the first drink and mimicking Chloe's sip. "I wouldn't need to resort to nicknames if you told me your real one."

Chloe's heart sped up, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself centered. "I don't make a habit of giving my number to random people I meet at dirty warehouses."

"I didn't ask for your number, I asked for your name," she returned smoothly, seeming to delight in Chloe's grimace. She finished her drink in a long pull, putting her cigarette out on the bar. "Alright, Blue, finish your drink and let's go."

Chloe nearly spat the too-cloying rum drink everywhere. "What?"

Rachel pointed behind her toward the stage where a new band was setting up, sound-checking their equipment which wailed and boomed sporadically. "You can't come to one of these and not mosh."

Chloe pursed her lips and finished her alcohol, tossing the cigarette into the glass and following the petite blonde onto the sunken, makeshift dancefloor. Rachel bought her a drink - she might as well indulge her for a minute or two.

 

* * *

 

 _A minute or two_ turned into three hours. Between their dancing, trips back to the bar - Rachel always paying and never seeming to mind - and taking smoke breaks near the back door, the pair had traded quips, letting small snippets of information slide out here and there.

Rather, Rachel had let the information slide out. She was very talkative when drunk, it seemed, but most of what she said was so cryptic that Chloe wondered if she had gotten dosed.

Rachel had a boyfriend. Rachel was beginning to get bored of said boyfriend. Rachel had dropped out of college to try to become a model or an actress - something in the limelight, something where everyone could see her as someone else.

"You're kind of depressing," Chloe said without meaning to when the last call was declared, people beginning to filter out the doors.

Rachel snorted. "No shit. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Ouch."

"Oh come _on,"_ Rachel breathed, rolling her eyes. "We're supposed to be responsible adults, but we're here at a stupid fucking show full of stupid fucking kids. The band isn't that good, at least a quarter of these dudes have thought about assaulting us, and I'm sure we're both trying to forget something that happened recently." Chloe winced. Spot-fucking-on. Rachel breathed out slowly, her breath smelling like stale cigarettes. "What are we even doing here, Blue?"

"Chloe," she corrected. "My name is Chloe."

Rachel nodded, looking lost in thought for a moment before pulling her phone out of her skintight back pocket, the sudden harsh light on her face startling. "I knew a Chloe once. Total bitch. Where do you live?"

"What?"

"Where do you live? For the Uber?"

"I... I don't-"

"Fine, we're going to my place," she said as if it was a conversation about the weather. She tapped away at her phone for a few moments while Chloe shifted awkwardly.

"I can just walk," Chloe tried to interrupt eventually. All she received in response was a finger asking her to hold.

"Cool," Rachel said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "It'll be about ten."

"I can just walk," Chloe repeated, her brain firing too quickly to come up with anything else. "I don't live that far."

Rachel shrugged absently, her ponytail snaking over her shoulder. "If you want, but it's cold as balls out there, and you're probably too drunk to walk straight, let alone fight off one of these creeps." Her gaze scanned over the lingering men, looking disgusted.

"I'm fine," Chloe said, but Chloe also knew the girl was closer to being right than Chloe.

Rachel smirked at her and leaned in a bit. "You're scared of me, aren't you?"

"What? No." _Yes._

"Good to know. My bite is about the same as my bark, so you should be able to hold your own."

A chill went down Chloe's spine, but she swallowed past it and murmured, "Maybe I should be the one making sure you're not too drunk."

Rachel snorted, hooking her arm around Chloe's and meandering toward the door. "You might be right, Chloe. You might be totally right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The header picture is thanks to Creative Commons. The original picture is [here](https://pixabay.com/en/girl-fire-blond-campfire-woman-569369/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A potentially jarring (due to format) texting conversation will show up toward the end of the chapter. You've been warned! :)

* * *

 

Chloe woke up with a faint buzzing in the back of her head, a reminder that she drank too much. _Thank God for preemptive Ibuprofen,_ she thought absently, blinking back sleep. She then blinked back confusion, staring at a vaulted, flawless ceiling that was decidedly not hers.

Something shifted on her arm, and she looked down to find the blonde girl from the show. She had snuggled into the natural hollow between Chloe's arm and chest, head balanced on her shoulder. The girl was awake, smoking a joint and scrolling lazily through her phone. When Chloe made a soft noise of confusion, the girl - Rachel, she reminded herself - turned her head to look up at her. "Oh, hey. I was starting to get worried you'd died or something." She didn't sound worried, instead choosing to take a drag from her joint, ignoring the ash that fluttered onto her neckline.

"What...?" was all Chloe could croak out, her throat dry and aching.

"There's some water on the side table," Rachel informed her, slipping off of Chloe's arm and putting her joint out on her side table. Chloe's shoulder felt very alone suddenly, missing the weight and the half-wet strands of her hair.

"This is your place?" Chloe asked for no reason other than to say something. She sat up and reached for the glass Rachel had mentioned, gulping the whole thing down.

"You know, they say you shouldn't down water when you're thirsty." Rachel's dark-blue thumbnail softly tapped as it scrolled. "It just passes through - you don't get any benefit. You've got to sip it."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Rachel snorted, sliding up the massive bed to lean against the headboard. "I dunno, water scientists?"

"Might wanna get your sources before chastising people about their choices," Chloe returned without heat, awkwardly perched on the end of the bed. "Um, I guess I should call a cab or something?" Walk. She would have to walk; she couldn't afford a drink, let alone a cab ride. "Where are we?"

"Highland Park, but you're not calling a cab," Rachel said as if she was insane. "I can drive you home."

Chloe wasn't certain what was happening, but she was reasonably sure it was some kind of joke. Any minute now, the strange, unflappable demigoddess in front of her was going to either humiliate her or kill her - she wasn't sure which.

"Come here," Rachel ordered, a hand reaching out, fingers wiggling as if seeking her. Chloe narrowed her eyes; murder was becoming the most likely scenario. Even so, Chloe hesitantly joined her at the headboard, knowing she reeked of alcohol and sweat. Rachel smelled like rosewater or something else innocent and faint. Chloe flushed, growing more self-conscious as each millisecond passed.

Rachel sighed and scooted closer to Chloe, raising her phone in front of them. "Grr faces on three."

"What? Rachel, no-"

"Oh come on," Rachel teased gently, leaning in more, her cheek bumping against Chloe's. "3, 2, 1!"

Chloe barely had time to look back toward the camera, having no time to force a smile. It was suddenly undeniable that Rachel didn't aim to murder her, but every intention to humiliate her on social media. Rachel looked at the photo and grinned.

"I really need to go," Chloe tried again, pulling back. "I have work later."

Rachel nodded toward the dresser in the corner. "Grab some clothes and take a shower here. I'm still too hazed to drive."

"Maybe you shouldn't have kept smoking?"

Rachel laughed, shrugging. "Touche, Chloe Price."

Chloe froze. "What?"

"I friended you," Rachel said, wiggling the phone around. "It was kinda hard to find you - did you know Chloe is an insanely common name for girls in LA?"

Chloe was going to lose her mind if she kept talking to Rachel. It felt as if the girl was a constant rollercoaster of surprises. She didn't act like anyone else Chloe had ever known - too self-confident, maybe. Too carefree, but not in a manic-pixie way. More in an _I-get-what-I-want, no-matter-what_ way.

Chloe decided to get to her feet, awkwardly rifling through a few of Rachel's drawers, settling on a simple tank top and leggings. She knew the pants were going to be too short, given their height difference, but Chloe decided she didn't care enough - all she wanted was to feel like she wasn't 90% grease. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Right across the way, the only other door," she replied, grabbing another joint from a small, oak box on her bedside. Chloe thought about reminding her that she needed a ride but decided against it. She doubted that her words would change anything.

The shower was marvelous - both the facility and getting clean. The shower head was better than anything Chloe had ever imagined, and Rachel had a smorgasbord of hair products and body washes. There were so many that Chloe guiltily tried multiple. She found the organic goat-milk-and-rosehip soap that Rachel smelled like and passed by it - she didn't want to come off as creepy.

Once she dressed in the awkwardly fitting clothes, she wandered back into the bedroom. Rachel was sprawled on the bed, her head hanging over the edge. She grinned at Chloe. "You look good."

"You're a decent liar," Chloe muttered. "Do you have a brush I can borrow?"

Rachel's hand waved dreamily toward her vanity in the corner, a massive cherry-oak monstrosity. Chloe sat down in front of the mirror, rummaging through drawers until she found a hairbrush. She finished up, rubbing at her aching eyes while walking back to the bed. Her phone was blinking insistently. Sighing, Chloe flicked through the notifications. There was a message from her friend, Max - more than likely solidifying flight plans for her future trip to LA -, her mother checking in to make sure she was alive, and a Facebook friend request.

"Do you typically add drunk girls you kidnapped from bars on Facebook?" she asked even as she accepted the request, admiring Rachel's artsy profile photo. In it, she was looking off across the city from somewhere high up - a rooftop, Chloe guessed. Whoever had taken the picture had done so with skill, effortlessly capturing the colors of the sunset and Rachel's natural beauty.

"Only the ones I bring home," Rachel replied smoothly.

Another notification slid across Chloe's phone - Rachel had tagged her in their morning photo. Chloe grimaced, clicking the notification. And there they were - Rachel looking fresh and flawless, Chloe looking bored and slightly amused. She wasn't sure how she'd managed a smirk, but it made her seem intentionally disheveled and - dare she say it? - kind of badass.

Chloe stared at it, confused. Rachel somehow made her look decent, as if her charm was fairy dust and she'd deposited some during the night. Comments were already pouring in, but Chloe flicked her phone off before she could see another, "who is that?", "you skaaaank! she's cute!!!", and "Good to see Frank got luckyx2 last night. Maybe he'll stop being such a dick."

Rachel had put her phone away, too, turning her simper onto Chloe. "Do you want lunch?"

"I should really-"

"Fine," Rachel groaned, sounding put out. She glided off of the bed and shoved her feet into a pair of flats, shaking her damp hair out. "Where to, Grump?"

Chloe tried to be annoyed, but it was somehow impossible with Rachel. "South Park, off of Central."

Rachel whistled, looking impressed. "Damn, Chloe, you didn't mention you ran in a gang."

Chloe rolled her eyes. She'd heard similar things since she'd moved to LA a year ago, but what else could she do? She certainly couldn't afford an apartment in Highland Park - couldn't even conceive of it. "Oh yes, I run in a gang of gangly 20-something girls, you caught me."

Rachel chuckled and headed through her bedroom door. The small hallway spit them into a massive open floor plan, the living room boasting a wall of windows looking out onto the city. The kitchen was one Chloe had only seen on television - a long line of cupboards, a stove and fridge that were made up to match the dark cabinetry, and a long kitchen island.

"Fuck," Chloe blurted, eyes scanning over the tufted couches and massive television. "You didn't mention you were in the goddamn mob."

Rachel returned to her side, putting a muffin into her hand, taking a second muffin for herself. "Maybe I am. Would that scare you off?"

Chloe knew the rational answer was 'yes.' But the answer that came to her lips, the one that she felt like a pit in her stomach, was, "No."

"My dad's the DA," she said with a grin, picking pieces of muffin apart, plopping them into her mouth. She walked toward the door, grabbing her keys from a hook, and said, "He bought me this condo when I turned eighteen. Most of the people living here are trust fund kids, you know? It's nothing but a cycle of white privilege around Highland, Price. It's gross, but you stop noticing it after a while."

The words would have made her prickle and hiss in distaste if Rachel hadn't said it with such open hostility, such loathing. Chloe nibbled at her muffin as she followed Rachel to the hallway and into a sleek elevator, through the gleaming lobby and into the parking garage. They said nothing until they were in Rachel's car, a surprisingly low-key black sedan.

"'Kay," Rachel began, grabbing a cigarette and placing it between her lips. "South P, here we come."

"I can't believe _I'm_ saying this," Chloe began, watching her light the cigarette while maneuvering out of the parking garage, "but I don't think I've seen you _not_ smoking since we met."

Rachel laughed, passing the cigarette to Chloe. "Oral fixation. I like having things between my lips." She shot Chloe a knowing smirk and Chloe flushed, unable to help it. She took a long drag of the cigarette, looking out of the window as they glided onto the freeway on-ramp.

 

* * *

 

 

"Chloe, what the hell?"

Chloe winced, glancing up at Greg, her douche of a boss. _Speak of the fucking Devil._

"Get off the damn phone," he snapped. "Go clean something."

"The lab is _spotless,"_ she returned testily. "I've cleaned the goddamn machine three times today, and if I put any more bleach on this floor, I'm pretty sure it will eat a hole through the center of the earth."

Greg glanced around, frowning, trying to find something to yell at her about. "Then go help the stockers."

Chloe bit back a curse. "Sure, Greg, let me go help the floor crew in spite of me not knowing where anything goes. That'll make them super happy."

"Get to it," Greg replied, not seeming to understand her sarcasm. And then he was walking away in that weird gait of his - like he a landmine on his back and any sudden movement would set it off. Chloe muttered hotly to herself, trudging out of the photo lab and into the dense aisles of pharmacy products.

"Diabetes testers," Chloe muttered to herself, stooping down to a product tote and poking through it. She glanced around her at the rows, frowning. "Where the fuck would diabetes testers go?"

"What are you doing?"

Chloe bit her lip. The day just kept getting better. "Helping." she pretended not to see Victoria's foot tapping impatiently beside her.

"You don't know where anything goes, how are you going to help?"

"I don't know, _Vicky,_ go ask Greg." Chloe left the aisle for no other reason than to get away from the annoying trill of Victoria Chase's voice. Victoria's voice, and Victoria, decided not to let Chloe off so quickly. Her pharmacy tech coat fluttered as she sped up in pursuit.

"So, what's up with you and Rachel Amber?" When Chloe kept walking, scanning the shelves for diabetes testing kits, Victoria pressed, "How did you guys even meet? I mean, it's not like you _do_ anything."

It was bizarre how Victoria could make snap judgments that were so spot-on. They'd had maybe five clipped conversations with one another, one of which involved Chloe _accidentally_ spilling bleach on Victoria's new shoes.  
  
"Are you stalking me, Victoria?" Chloe finally asked, turning on the girl, thrilled at the prospect of making Victoria-fucking-Chase run off in a huff. "I always thought you and that disgusting UCLA guy were banging it out, but lo and behold, here you are! Stalking me!"

Victoria's eyes widened and then narrowed. She scoffed and ripped the diabetes boxes from Chloe's hands. "Fuck you, Price."

"Man, you do have a thing for me," Chloe called to her quickly retreating form, pleased by the way she sped up to get away.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

Chloe was in the middle of forking cold lasagna into her mouth when a knock on the door jolted her out of a self-deprecating inner monologue. "Shit," she muttered, tossing the paper plate and her gnarled, fond-of-the-disposal fork onto the counter. "Fucking _shit."_

She opened the front door, swallowing and trying to plan her excuse for being late on rent - again - and how she'd sign her entire paycheck over to him if he'd give her until the end of the week. Granted, doing so would mean she'd be living off of the stale Doritos in her pantry, but what else could she do?

It was not her landlord, though. It was Rachel Amber.

"Oh," Chloe said awkwardly.

Rachel smirked at her, an eyebrow quirked. "Expecting someone else?" Before Chloe could answer, Rachel looked past Chloe and into the dark apartment. "Can I come in, or do you have a naked guy stashed away?"

Chloe felt her cheeks flush as she stepped aside, mumbling an apology for the mess. She didn't know why, but Rachel had the power to make her question her entire existence.

Rachel stepped in, unabashedly looking around the studio apartment. Chloe didn't have a closet in her hellhole, so her clothing was piled in the corner, probably housing more spiders than she wanted to think about. The bed was unmade and taking up much of the space in the tiny room. "Cozy," Rachel said, unphased, and flopped onto the mattress on the floor. "So, what are you up to today?"

"Nothing," Chloe started to say before hesitating. "Did you drive here? Where did you park?"

Rachel sat up on her elbows, watching as Chloe shut the door and moved into the kitchen to grab her lasagna. "Around the corner."

"Good. Can't get a ticket there because the meters are busted," Chloe informed her, taking a bite of the lasagna and trying not to gag around the possibly-rancid meat. "Skid keeps trying to bust them open and doesn't seem to get the hint that he can't get into the safebox."

"Skid?" she repeated, smile growing.

"Insane junkie who lives behind the building," Chloe replied nonchalantly, realizing that she had gotten used to a methhead living behind her building. She was pretty sure her mother would shit a literal brick if she saw how Chloe was living. "He's harmless."

"Unless you're a parking meter," Rachel snickered, lying back down. "I thought we could grab lunch or throw bang-snaps at shitty kids in the mall."

Chloe wasn't sure why, but the suggestion of throwing bang-snaps at people was both delightful and entirely horrifying. "Do you typically carry snappers around in your purse?"

"Don't you?"

Chloe snorted and put the rest of the lasagna in the fridge, wishing again that she'd bought some saran wrap when she actually had money to buy things. "I have plans today. Sorry."

"I came all the way down here to rescue you, though," Rachel faux-pouted.

"I need to go to work," Chloe tried.

"You don't work today - I checked with Victoria," Rachel replied smoothly, getting to her feet with a little difficulty.

"How did you know I work with -- are you some kind of stalker or something?" Chloe asked, a prickle of unease tickling the back of her neck. If Rachel had wanted to harm her, Rachel had ample opportunity while Chloe was passed out drunk in her bed. Even so, the blonde's sudden appearance in her life was still baffling. "Or just trying to slum it for a few good stories?"

"You wound me," Rachel chuckled, moving into the kitchen and opening her fridge. "Holy shit, Price."

"What are you doing?!" Chloe tried to protest.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow at her over her shoulder. "What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? You have literally two things in your fridge; a piece of molding lasagna - which you were just eating, let me remind you - and an opened beer I can only assume you've been sipping for seven months."

"One week," Chloe sighed. "And what are you going through my shit for, anyway?"

"Forget bang-snaps, we're going to the grocery store," Rachel said firmly, grabbing the beer and lasagna. The first she dumped down the sink, much to Chloe's dismay, and the second she tried to throw away in the small trash can.

"Chloe, jesus, you don't have trash bags?" She sighed, but it sounded more amazed than disgusted. "Come on. Where's your dumpster?"

The pair left the apartment, Chloe locking up while Rachel ran to the trash compactor, throwing the plate and beer bottle away with exaggerated disdain. When she returned to Chloe's side, she tugged the girl around the corner of the building and toward her sedan. Skid was there, hunched over, peering at a chrome hubcap.

"Skid, fuck off," Chloe called as they approached. Rachel didn't seem disconcerted, unlike most people who encountered Skid.

"There's another me," he muttered, a finger hovering at the edge of the rim, amazed. "There's me. It's me in there?"

"It's a reflection, Skid, back off."

Skid got to his feet, anxiously watching Rachel. "Who is that?" he asked Chloe, eyes never leaving Rachel.

"Skid, don't you recognize the Queen?" Chloe asked in a faux-whisper. "This is her car, so you better make sure not to touch it, okay?"

Skid's eyes were wide and then narrowed. "Can you grant wishes?"

"That's a genie," Chloe tried to say, but Rachel interrupted her in the best-worst accent she had ever heard.

"What do you wish, good sir?"

Skid glanced around the sidewalk. The closest person was a working girl on the opposite corner, completely ignoring them. "Do you have those little chocolates? The ones in the foil?"

Something passed over Rachel's face that Chloe couldn't understand. "I can bring you some later," she offered, the accent gone. "If you're here when we get back."

Skid glanced around again, and then back toward his makeshift tent made out of ratty blankets. "Sure, sure. Right here." He slunk away from the car, hunkering down against the apartment building, eyes drooping. "Right here," he repeated, curling his arms around his knees.

Rachel got into her car and Chloe followed, jeans sliding across the leather seat. "Sorry," Chloe said as Rachel pulled out onto the dirty street. "He's okay, just... you know. Not okay at all."

"I used to be an addict," Rachel said, clearing her throat a little. "Still an addict, I guess. There's this whole thing - you're never actually recovered, just _in recovery."_ Rachel snorted and reached for the pack of cigarettes in her cup holder. She placed one between her lips and Chloe, prepared for once, offered her a light. Rachel let out a long plume of smoke and sighed. "I will say, nothing feels better than sex on heroin."

Chloe swallowed, uncomfortable, but Rachel lightened the mood by passing Chloe the cigarette and getting onto the freeway. "Anyway, what about you, Chloe Price? Any fun, dark secrets hiding up those..." she paused, glancing over at Chloe for a second before her eyes went back to the traffic in front of them. "I would say sleeves, but I have yet to see you in anything besides a tank top."

"I'm boring," Chloe admitted, wiggling to get more comfortable. "I work at a pharmacy, I'm underpaid, and I live in a shit apartment. I think that about sums up my life."

"There's more to you than that," Rachel said, the surety in her voice making Chloe believe it for a moment. "Okay, let's play a game. Two Truths and a Lie."

Chloe groaned, leaning her head back on the headrest. "Seriously, I don't have anything-"

"I was born in Hawaii," Rachel said, switching lanes and cutting off another car, ignoring the blaring horn. "I grew up with a constant cycle of cats because my step-mom loves them, but only until they do something inconvenient. And I am currently high as balls and really trying not to crash and kill us."

The last one made Chloe's throat go dry momentarily, but she'd seen Rachel high before. She was calm and lazy - relaxed. She was now tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel in an anxious drumbeat. "You're not high."

"True," Rachel conceded with a small smile. "And?"

Chloe's eyes scanned Rachel. She had the look of someone who grew up on beaches. She didn't seem like a cat person, though Chloe had no way of really knowing. Besides, her step-mother could have loved cats without Rachel needing to like them.

"Your step-mom likes having cats," Chloe shrugged.

Rachel's nose wrinkled up. "She does not, thank God. I'm allergic."

"So you grew up in Hawaii?"

Rachel snorted. "I cheated. They're all false. I'm a pretty good liar, huh?"

"That's not fair!" Chloe exclaimed, feeling oddly betrayed.

Rachel took the cigarette back from Chloe, her smile mischievous. "Your turn."

Chloe bit the inside of her cheek. "I was raised in Oregon. My first job was in a diner. I've only had one friend, and I haven't seen her in five years."

Rachel glanced over at her, frowning, before maneuvering off of the freeway. She didn't say anything as they cruised through the packed northside before she stopped at a grocery store too expensive for Chloe to even look at. "Come on," she said when she parked, turning the car off. "Shopping time."

"I can't afford-"

"Yeah, I know, I saw your kitchen," Rachel interrupted. Her tone wasn't hostile in spite of her words. She slid out of the car and Chloe begrudgingly followed suit, forgetting all about their game when faced with the very glamorous, mostly-white faces surrounding them as they entered the supermarket. Everything was pristine; even the carts were squeak-less, turned on a dime, and weren't sticky.

"I hate this place," Chloe breathed, a little louder than she meant to.

Rachel just laughed, bumped Chloe's hip, and pushed the cart like a professional, swerving around other loitering shoppers with the ease and grace of a stunt driver. Chloe had to jog after her to keep up, their trek taking them to the produce section first.

They didn't talk about anything aside from Chloe's food preferences as they moved around the store. Chloe had been very aware of the looks she was getting, wandering around in a faded, torn tank top, bra straps visible, and jeans speckled with paint and marker flecks. As the pair moved through the store, though, Chloe began to stand a little taller, forgetting about the snooty bitches around them and focused on Rachel. Between looking at nutrition labels and feeling the firmness of fruits and vegetables, Rachel would surprise Chloe with snarky quips about others' attire or hair.

"You cheated," Rachel suddenly said as she pushed the cart out of the store, the fabric bags' handles flopping around in the warm wind. "In the game. You cheated. All of them were true."

Chloe didn't answer while they loaded bags into the trunk, but her hands began to prickle with sweat. She pushed the cart back to the store while Rachel got the air conditioning going in the car. When she slid into the passenger seat, she hummed, "I figured it was only fair."

 _"Only fair_ would be telling me three lies," Rachel mumbled. She sounded demure - guilty, almost.

"I'm not interesting or smart enough to come up with three lies on the spot."

Rachel backed out of the parking spot, jaw clenched. "I don't believe that in the slightest."

 

* * *

 

Chloe wasn't sure if she'd ever seen a fully-stocked fridge and pantry in her life. Even when she was living with her mom, their cabinets were only filled long enough for a week; the money was so tight that they had to live paycheck to paycheck. Even _that_ had seemed decadent to LA-Chloe.

When they finished with groceries, Rachel flopped back onto the bed, fanning her face. "No A/C, I take it?"

Chloe only snorted, not bothering to answer. Rachel could see the apartment - Chloe barely had a full-size window, let alone a damned air conditioner. Chloe loitered at the lip between the room and the kitchen, hesitating, not sure what to do.

Rachel patted the bed beside her dreamily, as if sensing Chloe's unease in her own apartment. "I have a different game in mind."

"Does it involve lying?" Chloe retorted, moving across the few meters to the bed. She sat beside Rachel, picking at her cuticles.

"Nope, nothing but the truth. We go back and forth, rapid-fire questions," Rachel breathed, rolling onto her side and propping herself on her elbow. "Do you miss anything about Oregon?"

"The trees."

"Ask me a question," Rachel prodded.

"If you weren't born in Hawaii, where are you from?"

"Born and raised right here in LA. Long Beach." She paused for a moment before murmuring, "You got a few texts while we were out. Friend?"

"The one and only," Chloe admitted. She still hadn't looked at the texts from Max. "How do you know Victoria Chase?"

Rachel groaned, leaning her head back to look at the ceiling. "She's dating an old friend," she sighed. "An old get-high-and-makeout friend."

"Nathan Prescott?" Chloe interrupted, horrified. The UCLA prick.

"That's the one. Okay, so... boyfriend?"

Chloe laughed, unable to help it. "No. But you said you have one?"

"Yep."

"What's he like?"

Rachel seemed to think about it for a moment as if deliberating what to say. "He's... sweet. Mostly. He has a temper, but I haven't seen that too much recently - not since I've been clean. We fought a lot when we were both high, you know? But he's decent. He treats me like a goddess." She shrugged, but her lips were tugging down at the corners.

"You said you didn't think you loved him anymore," Chloe pressed gently.

Rachel bit her lower lip. "I did, didn't I." It wasn't a question, so Chloe didn't reply. "I don't know if I ever did - love him, I mean. I don't know if I've ever loved anyone. I mean, my dad, sure. My mom. My step-mom, even. But I've never really... felt something for someone."

Rachel grabbed Chloe's pillow and rested her head on it, her hazel eyes holding Chloe's. "What about you?"

Chloe shrugged, wondering how to stop the conversation. She barely knew Rachel and, even though she wanted to share her soul with the girl, Chloe suspected it was just loneliness. Or maybe Rachel was only trying to get something on her for some reason. "I've had crushes. I've had sometimes-relationships. But it's never been... right."

Rachel nodded understandingly, and Chloe continued. "I don't know. I kind of wonder if I'm just supposed to -- I don't know."

"What?" Rachel urged kindly.

"I don't know if I can love someone." Chloe shrugged, trying to seem flippant. "I thought I loved my best friend - you know, childhood crushes. But... I don't know."

"What's he like?" Rachel murmured.

Chloe swallowed. "She."

Rachel's eyebrows rose, but she didn't look unsettled by the admission. "Sorry. What is she like?"

"Nice. Sweet. Oblivious and kind of an idiot, but in a good way," Chloe laughed, looking at the rumpled, red sheet beneath her hand. "She's coming out for Christmas, and I'm still trying to figure out how to tell her I'm living in complete squalor."

"It's not that bad," Rachel tried to comfort her. "Skid seems pretty cool. Oh, shit! I need to go give him those chocolates." Rachel got to her feet and grabbed the bag of goodies for Skid off of the counter, wiggling them. "Wanna come with?"

Chloe hated that she had ruined their bonding with her depressing relationship talk, so the interruption of do-gooding was a welcome reprieve. The pair left the apartment and rounded the corner of the building to find Skid laying in front of his tent, staring up at the sky.

"Hey, Skid," Rachel called, startling the man into a defensive crouch. "Hey, I brought you some of those chocolates."

Skid was there in an instant, taking the grocery bag from her and rifling through it, eyes wide. "All for me?"

"Yep," Rachel grinned.

Skid upended the bag, chocolates falling out along with pull-tab cans of fruit, vegetables, and beans. He shrieked in a sudden burst of excitement.

Rachel didn't wait for thanks. She grabbed Chloe's arm and said, "Bye, Skid. See you next time!"

Skid didn't even look up, struggling to pull the thin purple foil off of a chocolate with his teeth as he stacked the cans.

The pair returned to Chloe's apartment, but Rachel loitered in the doorway. "So, there's a show I was gonna head to tonight," she began gently, hip leaning against the door jam. "Wanna come? We can find you a cute girl to dance with." The added eyebrow wiggle made Chloe's stomach flip.

"I can't," Chloe said immediately before hesitating. Rachel had just bought her an entire house-full of groceries; Chloe felt like she owed her. "I mean -- if you want, I can."

Rachel seemed to think about it before offering her a smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "What about a night in, then? Movies and popcorn?"

Chloe wasn't sure how to get out of the situation, so she didn't try. She didn't even want to try. "Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features small hints of racial/economic inequality and the poor handling of mental illness in America.

 

* * *

 

Chloe was close to falling asleep when Rachel's phone rang, the song filling the room with sudden bass. Rachel cursed and pulled herself off of the pillow beside Chloe, grabbing for her jeans she'd taken off during their movie-watching and pot-smoking spree. She found her phone in record time and swiped the screen. "Hey."

Chloe blinked back sleep and grabbed her own phone. She had one notification from Max and three on Facebook. Those were only comments on Rachel's picture, so Chloe dismissed them and went to her texts.

 

 

Chloe put her phone back and turned her attention to Rachel and her clenched, angry jaw. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded sharp. Chloe hadn't been paying any attention, but it seemed as if Rachel's caller hadn't let her talk much.

Finally, Rachel's voice emerged. "Jesus, Frank, just go to bed." The voice on the other end got louder, but so did Rachel's. "No, I'm with a friend, I don't want to come over."

Chloe thought she heard _who is it? Is it that fuckup Nathan?_ but couldn't be entirely sure. So she attempted to help by saying, "Hey, Rach, you up for another movie?”

Rachel's eyes met hers, mouthing _thank you,_ and said to Frank, "Look, just go home and sober up. I'll see you at the club tomorrow." The voice on the other end, Frank's, was softer, less angry, and Chloe settled back onto the bed, eyes closing. She'd done her part.

"Yeah, tomorrow night. I have an audition in the afternoon, though, so I can't pregame -- yes I did! I told you last week!" Rachel listened, her jaw setting again. "Sober up. If you're this fucked up tomorrow, I'm not hanging around."

She hung up and silenced her phone, offering Chloe an apologetic smile. "Sorry. He's... well. He's him." She settled back onto the pillow, turning to face Chloe.

Chloe thought about biting her tongue - she always got herself in trouble when she didn't - but decided she was too tired and too fond of Rachel to keep her opinion to herself. The beer they'd been drinking for hours might have had something to do with it, too. "He sounded like an asshole."

Rachel laughed, the vibration like velvet in Chloe's ear. Chloe rolled over to face her and Rachel moved a little closer, their knees bumping. "He is."

"Why are you staying with him?" Chloe pressed.

Rachel shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Familiarity, I guess? We've been together since I was 17," she added, voice dropping lower. "That's... fuck, it's been seven years. How do you say goodbye to someone you've been with for seven years?"

"By saying goodbye," Chloe interjected, even though she knew she had no room to tout relationship knowledge. Her longest partnership had been when she was 19 - that one had lasted exactly three months.

Rachel bit her lower lip to keep her smile from spreading. "Yeah. I guess you're right." She stared at Chloe, unblinking, for long enough that Chloe began to feel uncomfortably warm, her heart speeding up in her chest. "When was your first kiss?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" Chloe choked out, eyes widening.

Rachel's grin widened. "When. Was. Your. First kiss."

Chloe swallowed, trying to decide if lying was better or worse than the truth. "Thirteen," she finally said.

"Bullshit," Rachel laughed, sounding delighted. "You need to work on your poker face, Price."

Chloe sighed. "It's a dumb question."

"Most questions are."

Chloe couldn't argue with that. "Sixteen."

"And?" Rachel pressed. "who with? Your best friend?"

"No," Chloe laughed awkwardly. "She'd left by then - moved to Seattle with her folks. It was some guy in some shithole bar that didn't card me. He said he'd buy me a drink if I let him make out with me, so..." she shrugged. "I've never made the best decisions."

"Me either," Rachel admitted. "My first was _actually_ at thirteen, and it was one of my teachers."

"Gross!" Chloe exclaimed, sending them both into laughing fits. "Oh my God, that's so gross."

Rachel snuggled closer, their noses almost touching, and Chloe forgot to breathe for a moment. "It was. Is. I mean, Frank is hella older than me, too. You'd think I have daddy issues."

"You don't?" Chloe asked, realizing she probably stepped too far.

But Rachel just grinned, forehead pressing into Chloe's. "Maybe I do. Care to psychoanalyze me, Price?"

"I'm nowhere near smart enough to analyze anything, let alone you."

"Aww, I don't know about that," she breathed, pulling back only enough to meet Chloe's eyes clearly. "But I'll let it slide because I have a proposition."

"I can't drink anymore if I plan on working tomorrow," Chloe interrupted.

Rachel smirked. "How about we re-do our first kisses. Right now. All other kisses are null and void."

Chloe couldn't feel her limbs for a moment, an icy chill sweeping through her, only to be followed by a rush of heat that traveled from her toes to her cheeks. "I," was all she managed to say.

Rachel leaned in a bit, her nose bumping Chloe's. "Yes or no, Price?" she asked, voice low and rasping.

"Yes," Chloe answered, amazed at her ability to form words. Before she could pull away or hate herself, Rachel's lips met hers in a tender brush of skin. It was quick, just a passing graze, but Chloe leaned in to trap her in a harder one. Rachel moaned softly, a leg hooking around Chloe's, anchoring her.

When Chloe pulled back, her chest beating frantically, Rachel's smile was sloppy. "Much better first kiss."

"Same," Chloe said without hesitation, marveling through her lightheaded daze.

Rachel kissed her again, pulling back too soon. "Sleep well, Price," she cooed, her leg still tangled around Chloe's.

"Night," Chloe mumbled, knowing it would be nearly impossible to sleep now.

 

* * *

 

Chloe awoke to the smell and sound of sizzling bacon. She had momentarily been transported back to her nights as a hungover teen who had to sneak into her bedroom via trellis like a horrible 90's movie trope. Her mother would always cook eggs and bacon before going to work; it had been one of Chloe's favorite things until her step-father had shown up and made everything awful. She had taken so much for granted as a kid - school, a college scholarship for impoverished teens... but she had taken her mother for granted most of all.

Chloe crawled out of her bed and stumbled around the discarded clothing toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the ache in her chest, the sudden and overwhelming homesickness and regret she hadn't felt in years.

Rachel was there, still in her underwear and a borrowed tank top, flipping bacon and humming softly to herself. "Hey," Chloe greeted as casually as she could.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder, smiling. "Well hello there. I figured bacon would wake you up - did you know you could sleep through a freight train?"

Anyone who had spent a night with her knew that, but she pretended it was the first time she'd heard it. "Hardly. I have trouble sleeping."

"Sure, until you actually fall asleep." Rachel moved from the stove to the fridge, her bare thigh brushing Chloe's as she did. Chloe didn't move, and she didn't jump when it happened again as Rachel produced a carton of orange juice.

"I think you might have lied last night," Rachel began nonchalantly, pouring it into the two cups that Chloe owned. "About when your first kiss was."

It took Chloe a moment, but she finally flushed, running a hand through her bed-tousled hair. "You caught me. My first kiss was actually last night. You?"

"Same!" Rachel exclaimed in mock surprise. "Weird how those things happen."

"Yeah. Weird."

 

* * *

 

Rachel was very convincing when she tried to be - probably even when she didn't try. She had somehow coerced Chloe into calling out from work. Going to work was boring and not worth 90 additional dollars on her paycheck, according to Rachel. Chloe didn't mention that she was already in her boss’ crosshairs, that her rent was a week late, and she might go home to find a new lock on the door.

But Rachel was the perfect shoulder demon, her bright eyes and wicked grin somehow more persuasive than any threat of homelessness.

Chloe sat on Rachel's bed while the blonde wandered through her massive walk-in closet, mumbling to herself as she did. Chloe desperately wanted a shower after spending two hours in a stuffy warehouse where Rachel and twenty-eight other women auditioned for a pilot episode that might not make it onto television. But Chloe instead left her body to cool naturally in Rachel's airconditioned room.

Chloe adjusted herself on the bed, trying to drape herself sexily across it but knowing she was failing. Her limbs were too gangly, her chest too flat for her low-riding tank top to skew deliciously to the side. She gave up and settled into a tangled huff on the duvet, staring at the vaulted ceiling.

“You're coming out tonight, right?” Rachel called to her through the half-opened closet door.

“What?! No!”

Rachel's head popped around the door, frowning at her. “Why not?”

“I'm not exactly dressed for it,” Chloe tried.

“I have a black dress that would look _so_ hot on you,” Rachel supplied.

“Your boyfriend is gonna be there,” she added. “Not sure he would approve of me.”

“Oh, he won't, but he can go lick an outlet,” Rachel called as she disappeared into the closet again. When she returned, she tossed a black dress to Chloe. “Please?”

Chloe wanted to turn her down, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to. “It's November. Once the sun goes down, I am going to freeze to death.” It was a gross exaggeration - LA would be on high alert if the temperate reached anything lower than 50 degrees - but sometimes gross exaggerations worked on Rachel.

But not this time. “Suck it up, gorgeous,” Rachel smirked, dropping her jeans and wiggling into a tight skirt. Even though she seemed unmoved by Chloe’s impending discomfort, she went to her dresser and grabbed something, tossing it to Chloe. “For those sensitive stick legs of yours,” she said with a fond smile. “Get to it.”

The black, sheer leggings had tears through them, but it looked as of Rachel had intentionally done it; each rip was clean at the edges and coated in a sheer polish to keep it from fraying. Chloe slid out of her jeans and pulled the leggings up carefully, trying not to snag anything.

She looked up in time to see Rachel pulling a transparent top over her bra, the red color garish but somehow even sexier because of it. “Is Frank gonna kill me?” Chloe asked, trying to come up with a reason as to why she was staring.

Rachel snorted, tossing her long hair into a high ponytail. “Hardly. I doubt he'd even care if you went down on me mid-dance. As long as he could watch,” she added with a wink, moving to her vanity and missing Chloe’s intense blush.

Chloe chose not to answer, instead pulling her shirt off and shimmying into the dress. It was oddly well-fitted, though she assumed that was only because it was tight enough to forgive her lack of curves. She loitered in the middle of the room, staring at her reflection in Rachel's vanity mirror. She did look good, she would concede. Not like herself, more like Rachel, but Chloe had to admit it was appealing.

Rachel glanced at her through the mirror, her eyeliner pen poised, and made an appreciative noise. “Damn, Price.”

“How do I look?” Chloe asked, trying to milk the compliments as she awkwardly twisted to see the back, the ruched sides clinging to her.

“I want to take it off of you, and not because it looks bad,” she replied flippantly with her wolfish grin. She probably missed Chloe’s flush because she went back to applying her cat-eye.

 

* * *

 

Frank had not seemed fond of Chloe, though Chloe had anticipated that. The man was older than Chloe had expected, even though Rachel had warned her. Frank was scruffy, poorly dressed, and glowered - he looked like a man stalking Rachel, not her boyfriend.

“Come dance with me?” Rachel requested Chloe after the tense tenth minute of Chloe shifting uncomfortably and Frank glowering.

“Sure,” Chloe mumbled finishing her beer and getting to her feet. The club was more bubblegum-punk than Chloe usually liked, but she was willing to dance if it meant getting away from the table. She got to her feet, and Rachel grabbed her hand tugging her toward the dance floor.

It was easy enough to navigate between the bodies as she led Chloe through the crowd and to a relatively empty spot near the wall. The place was dark, smelled like cheap beer and piss, and was next to one of the booming speakers.

“Sorry about Frank,” Rachel called over the bass, hand hooking around Chloe’s waist, dragging her closer. “Withdrawal.”

“Quitting?” Chloe asked, beginning to bounce and shimmy, bumping against Rachel.

Rachel scoffed, hand tightening on Chloe’s waist as she circled her hips, caressing Chloe. The moves were much too slow and seductive for the song, but it somehow made Chloe even more entranced. “The only way he would quit completely is if he was in jail again.”

Chloe’s core was heating, flaming with every bump of Rachel's pelvis against hers. The beer on her empty stomach had left her tingling like a live wire, all of the energy thrumming, wanting an outlet. She reached out, a hand grabbing Rachel’s chin. The blonde's eyes widened in astonishment before her lips ticked upward. “You have me, Blue. What do you plan on doing with me?”

Chloe leaned in fast, mouth crushing against Rachel's. Rachel moaned, the sound sending butterflies fluttering along Chloe’s limbs, and her tongue slid deliciously across Chloe’s lower lip. Chloe broke free, panting, “Frank already looks like he's gonna fucking kill me.”

“He can't see us,” she replied, leaning in to whisper hotly in her ear. “Besides, I wouldn't let him hurt you.”

Chloe pushed her against the wall, pinning her, drawing a startled laugh from Rachel. “I'm sick of games,” Chloe said, surprised that her voice was hard, demanding. Rachel shuddered slightly, seeming to enjoy the table-turning. “What the fuck are we doing?”

Rachel’s tongue dragging slowly across the fading red stain on her lips, eyes heavy and dark. “I thought we were tiptoeing around how much we want to fuck each other.”

Chloe leaned in, nipping Rachel’s lower lip, a little harder than she intended, and the blonde arched against her. One of Chloe's hands captured the back of Rachel's neck, holding her in place. The other slid lower, thumb raising her shirt to rub across her toned stomach.

"Let's get out of here," Rachel moaned against her mouth, gasping softly.

"Frank-"

"Fuck Frank," Rachel spit out, her hand finding Chloe's and dragging the seeking hand further under her shirt, only stopping when Chloe's hand grabbed her breast, squeezing. Rachel's eyelids fluttered, and she murmured, "Don't go soft on me now, Price. Not when we're having so much fun."

Chloe tweaked Rachel's nipple through the thin bra, and Rachel's head fell back against the wall, pressing herself closer. Chloe pulled back suddenly, an idea forming. "Punch me in the stomach."

"What?!" Rachel nearly shouted, looking alarmed. "I'm down for a lot of freaky shit, but-"

"I can't fake being sick, and it's gotta look real," she interrupted.

Rachel's eyes widened in understanding. She didn't give a countdown - her fist slammed into Chloe's abdomen, making her double over and see spots. Amazed that she didn't start dry-heaving, she gasped, "Get me out of here before I pass out."

Rachel wasted no time in hoisting Chloe's arm over her shoulder and dragging her across the dance floor, shouting for people to get out of the way as she did. When they made it to Frank's table, the man stood, alarmed. "What the fuck happened?"

"She got sick," Rachel winced. "I'm gonna get her home." Chloe couldn't see much from her slumped position, but she could hear the worry and sincerity in Rachel's voice. She was a fantastic liar; so much so that it made Chloe feel even more nauseous. How many lies had Rachel told her, lies she was too besotted and oblivious to see through?

"Rachel-" Frank muttered, sounding both exasperated and annoyed. "Fine." He returned to his seat; Chloe could feel the heat of his gaze on her. "Don't die, I guess," he called to her, not sounding overly concerned.

Rachel pulled her out of the club, and they jaywalked across the street to a diner. Rachel dragged her inside and ordered coffee for them while she hailed an Uber. As they sat in the plastic booth, Chloe reminded of her mom's diner back home, the pain began to fade off, leaving a dull ache in the wake of the fire. She sat up a little straighter and sipped her black coffee, wincing. It's been sitting out for hours; Joyce would have been horrified.

Rachel finished with her app, giving Chloe an awkward, almost embarrassed, smile. "Sorry."

"I asked for it."

Rachel snorted. "This would sound like an abusive relationship to anyone walking by."

"I was the one with my hand around your throat a little bit ago," Chloe reminded her, smirking a bit behind her mug when Rachel shifted in her seat and bit her lower lip. "I didn't take you for a submissive."

"I can be anything depending on the moment," she grinned.

It was Chloe's turn to bite her lip, knowing her chest was flushing. "Where's the car?"

"Close - five minutes out. Think you can wait that long?" Rachel teased.

"Not sure, we might need to make a detour to a bathroom stall."

Rachel laughed before sliding out of her seat to pay the tab at the register. A car pulled up outside, three minutes early, and honked its horn. Chloe was the one to drag Rachel this time, barely allowing her to pay for their coffees before shoving her into the backseat of the Uber.

The driver said absolutely nothing when the pair's mouths began devouring one another, hands drunkenly fumbling with each other's hair and clothing. He also said nothing when they wriggled out of their seatbelts to better touch one another, angling sharply, legs a jumble. He seemed completely content when Rachel tugged Chloe's dress down and descended on a small nipple, nibbling it sharply and making Chloe gasp.

Chloe wasn't sure how long she and Rachel had been making out when the driver came to an abrupt stop, forcing them apart and making their bodies slam into the backs of his front seats. "Fuck, dude," Chloe snapped.

"Police shit up ahead. Road's blocked."

Chloe looked out the window, frowning. "That's my building."

Rachel, suddenly sobered, leaned over to look out Chloe's window. "We can just get out here and walk," she suggested, seeming oblivious of the row of police cars flashing their lights.

"And get shot?" the driver asked at the same time Chloe demanded, "Are you insane? Do you remember what neighborhood I live in?"

But Rachel was already getting out of her side door. Chloe cursed, muttered an apology and thank-you to the driver, and ran after her, heart hammering.

Rachel drew to a sudden stop just outside of the barricade. When Chloe arrived at her side, she understood why. Skid was in the middle of the road, looking lost and confused, scratching at his arm and shaking his head, matted hair flopping into his eyes.

"On the ground!" one of the police yelled.

"What's going on?" Rachel yelled, drawing two sets of police eyes to them before they returned to the scene in the middle of the two cruisers' headlights.

Chloe grabbed her arm sharply, whispering, "Are you fucking insane?"

"Get down," another officer shouted when Skid's head swiveled toward the girls. Skid's face lit up, and he began waving frantically. "It's the Queen!" he declared, face shimmering in blue and red lights, lips curving in delight.

Everything happened so slowly that Chloe thought time had stopped. Skid began to move, teetering over a chunk of concrete in the road. Shouting erupted from all around her, voices rising and swelling. Rachel was suddenly running, not away but toward the cacophony and the drawn guns. Chloe wanted to follow her, to protect her, to make sure nothing happened - but she was rooted, her heart hammering, her shout not able to clear the hot lump of fear in her throat.

Rachel was in front of Skid, her arms flung out as if they were a barrier, eyes wild and defiant as she stared down five guns and the men and women behind them. They were shouting at her now, the pistols hesitating. It was no longer a black vagrant man but a well-dressed, albeit scantily clad, blonde girl.

Rachel did not move, and neither did Skid who had dropped to his knees to count cracks in the pavement, all the while telling Rachel about the banner he was making out of chocolate wrappers. "Every Queen needs a banner," he hummed, oblivious to the tense standoff he had somehow created.

Rachel's voice broke through Chloe's haze, clear and sharp like a piece of glass sliding across her brain. "He's sick!" she shouted, tone hard.

"Get down!" one roared.

"What did he do," she continued hotly. "What did he do?!"

"On the ground-"

"I'm Rachel Amber!" she howled back, trying a different tactic. "My father is James Amber! Now call a fucking crisis team, or you're all discharged tomorrow fucking morning!"

The guns didn't waver for a long time. Someone radioed into their precinct, speaking softly, before calling for everyone to lower their weapons. The firearms dropped hesitantly and then holstered. One of the officers radioed for a medical response team, voice clipped. The standoff between the police and Rachel, her arms shaking from the effort but never lowering, only lasted five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Chloe. When the response team arrived and began questioning a meek and cooperative Skid, the police departed - only after warning Rachel that she could get killed interfering with police _public safety responses._ Funnily enough, no one seemed able or willing to tell Rachel what, in fact, Skid had done to require a 'public safety response.'

"Someone needs to interfere," she had replied coldly. She glanced back to Skid, waving goodbye to him, before returning to Chloe. She said nothing as she took Chloe's arm and pulled her the remaining fifteen yards to her door. Chloe unlocked it, and they stumbled inside. "Sleep?" Rachel asked, her face pale.

Chloe hadn't realized the incident scared Rachel; she seemed so fierce in front of the flashing lights of the squad car. Defiant. Brave. Gorgeous. "I'm so sorry," Chloe whispered, the trembling she'd expected finally arriving.

"What?" Rachel asked, pausing in the middle of taking her skirt off. "What do you mean?"

"I just stood there," Chloe breathed, her chest feeling as though it might break apart. "I just stood there, and you -- you just-"

Rachel kicked the skirt off and came to her, wrapping her arms around Chloe and running a hand over the back of her head, fingers tangled in her short hair. "Don't you dare apologize, Price. I'm fine."

"You might have gotten shot." Chloe's voice broke, and the heat behind her eyes warned her that she was about to cry. "I could have watched you die."

"The fuzz doesn't shoot blonde white girls in LA; you know that. Besides," she added softly, feathering Chloe's neck with kisses, "I would never put you through watching me die, Chloe."

Rachel used her first name so infrequently that Chloe was almost startled by it. She held Rachel tighter, swallowing down her tears, and whispered, "Sleep."

Rachel pulled back, offering her a gentle smile, brushing Chloe's hair from her face. "Come on, Blue. I think I need some quiet and some snuggles."

"I can do that." Chloe wiggled out of the dress and leggings before sliding onto the bed behind Rachel, tucking the girl against her and wrapping her arm around her waist.

"I don't know what this is," Chloe said suddenly. How could the night get any worse, after all? "You and me. But I think... I think it's something for me. And I think...."

"Hmm?"

"I think it's something for you, too."

Rachel wriggled as if trying to get closer in spite of their skins being fused together with the heat of their bodies and the stuffy room. "It's definitely something, Blue." Rachel's hand tightened around hers, and the blonde fell asleep in Chloe's arms. Chloe kissed the back of her head and closed her eyes, hoping slumber would take her soon. Hoping that she might someday forget the guilt swallowing her.

She could have tried to defend Skid. She could have tried to protect Rachel. But all she did was stand there; that was all Chloe ever did.


	5. Chapter 5

 

* * *

 

Chloe awoke, quite harshly, when Rachel lowered herself onto Chloe's waist, smirking. "Good morning."

"'Morning," Chloe mumbled through the desert that was her mouth. Her hands rose to Rachel's hips, frowning. "Why are you dressed?"

"Went out for doughnuts," she replied, wiggling a crinkling paper bag. "Open."

Chloe barely had time to comply before a doughnut hole shoved between her lips. She chewed, swallowing past her parched throat. "I've woken up in worse ways."

"Duh-doy," Rachel snorted, sliding off of Chloe and leaning against the wall, popping one into her mouth and chewing. "I also ran into your landlord."

Chloe winced. Rachel knew she was broke, but Chloe was reasonably sure Rachel wasn't aware she was _on-the-brink-of-homelessness_ broke. "I'm going to work to grab my paycheck; then he'll have his precious rent money."

"I paid," Rachel shrugged as if it was nothing. "But he said he wants you out at the end of the month."

"Fuck," Chloe hissed, covering her face with her pillow. It was completely understandable, Chloe knew, but that didn't mean it wasn't the worst news she'd had in months.

"You could always live with me until you get it figured out," Rachel offered, chewing another doughnut hole. "Or longer, if you wanted."

"We've known each other less than a week," Chloe laughed, sliding the pillow down to look at Rachel's smirking face. "I might be a murderer."

"First, you would have murdered me way before this. Second, we've spent nearly every waking - and sleeping - hour together. That's basically the equivalent of two months, right? Self-rising relationship!"

"That sounds made up." Chloe sat up and grabbed a doughnut from the bag. "Your place is big, but it's not _two roommates_ big. You'd be stumbling over my shit, _I'd_ be in your way-"

Rachel looked around her before casting a Chloe a disbelieving look. "You own basically nothing, Price. How are you going to take up enough space that it's difficult for me?"

"I work down here," was her next attempt.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her. "Then transfer. Find a new job. Be my sugar baby. There are tons of options."

"What about Frank?"

"Fuck Frank," Rachel grinned, her eyes lighting up. She could smell blood in the water - Chloe was out of excuses.

"That's the second time you've blown him off. I'm starting to think he's on the chopping block."

"Maybe," she said coyly. "Don't change the subject. Move in with me."

Chloe opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure what else she could say. She wanted to - she wanted nothing more, in fact. But the thought of moving in with someone else, someone who she barely knew, who terrified and electrified her, was unsettling. What happened when Rachel got sick of her? What happened when Rachel got bored and went back to Frank? What happened when Chloe kept falling in love with Rachel and -

Chloe swallowed. _Falling in love. Jesus tapdancing Christ, Chloe,_ she thought vehemently.

Rachel put the bag of doughnuts aside and leaned in to brush their noses affectionately. "Do you want to?"

"I do," Chloe admitted.

Rachel's lips tilted into a smile and her mouth covered Chloe's for a moment. "Then let's do it. We're only young and stupid once."

 

* * *

 

Chloe's personal belongings fit into one small cardboard box. Her clothes only filled two trash bags, and most of that was because of her endless supply of ripped jeans and ratty jackets. They had put together another box of non-perishables and the scant kitchen supplies of plates and cups. That, and the mattress, they planned to give Skid once he was out of the hospital. Chloe wasn't sure how long that would be, and just hoped it would be before the 30th.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Rachel asked over their dinner of Chinese takeout. The television was on low, the sitcom in front of them mostly ignored as Rachel twirled her chopsticks and Chloe forked at her food.

"Nothing," she answered honestly. "Working, probably."

"Eww," Rachel said, scrunching her nose. "Come to my parents' with me."

Chloe nearly choked on her General Tso's chicken. "What?"

Rachel smirked playfully; Chloe felt like she was always smirking playfully. "What, you never met a girlfriend's parents before?"

Chloe would have definitely choked if she had food in her mouth. "Girlfriend?" she repeated.

Rachel laughed and went back to twirling her chow mein. "What do you say? Meet the folks and eat too many fatty foods?"

Chloe wanted to go back to the 'girlfriend' bit, but she swallowed it down. "Sure," she answered awkwardly. She was beginning to learn that arguing with Rachel never worked in her favor. "If they're cool with it."

Rachel was already reaching for her phone, scrolling, and then put it to her ear.

"Right now?!" Chloe hissed.

"Thanksgiving is in five days - yeah, right now." The call must have picked up because Rachel grinned and said, "Hey, Dad, how's it going?" She exchanged pleasantries, updating him on her recent life - auditions, a bit part as an extra in a commercial - but left out meeting Chloe. Chloe assumed it was to dodge the _what do you mean you met five days ago?!_ question.

"So, hey," Rachel said suddenly, voice bright. "I was wondering if I could bring someone to Thanksgiving." Chloe could hear the man's muffled voice - he sounded surprised. _"Her,_ actually," Rachel corrected, casting Chloe a wink. "Her name is Chloe." She listened a bit more and chuckled. "Yeah, definitely. Okay, cool." Her father spoke a little longer before Rachel added, "Wait, wait, I needed to tell you something. Yeah. There was a thing down in South Park last night; five police officers were about to shoot this homeless guy. He's sick, you know? He didn't know what was happening, wasn't being aggressive, nothing." She listened a bit and sighed. "It doesn't matter, all that matters is that I _was_ there and that those fucking assholes-" She winced. "Sorry. Just a little... heated." Her father spoke for a bit, and then Rachel let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks. I don't have names but -- okay, yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad. Tell Rose I said hi, too. Okay. Yeah. Okay, love you too."

"Getting the pigs fired?" Chloe asked when Rachel hung up and put her phone back on the coffee table.

Rachel shrugged, returning to her food. "Maybe. Maybe just retraining. I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

Rachel let out a defeated sigh. "I don't know, Chloe. I just... why is this happening? All of this shit," she added, waving her chopsticks around vaguely. "He wasn't hurting anyone. He was obviously out of his mind. Why-" she broke off, swallowing. "It's not right. I mean, you hear those fucking stories from the 60's, the riots, and you think, _damn, thank God we've moved past that._ But have we? Have we fucking really?"

Chloe sat her plate down and slid across the couch to wrap her arm around Rachel's shoulder. Rachel pushed her dish aside, as well, and curled into Chloe's arms. They silently stared at the television, at the silly antics of a family so absurd they made no logical sense. Caricatures - innocent caricatures of what ordinary people wanted their family to be.

"Thank you," Rachel mumbled, turning her face to tuck it against Chloe's clavicle.

Chloe snorted. "I've done literally nothing. I'm the one who should be saying thank you." She paused before adding, "Thank you." Rachel mumbled something against her skin and Chloe tightened her grip. "You're a total badass," Chloe added, loving the way Rachel's shoulders jumped in withheld laughter.

 

* * *

 

Chloe picked anxiously at her nail beds as they drove through Long Beach. The suburban streets were mostly empty, the majority of people already settled in for the holiday. Rachel and Chloe had a late start because Rachel had insisted on doing Chloe's hair and makeup for the festivities. Chloe had protested heavily and loudly, but Rachel always got what Rachel wanted.

"I look stupid," Chloe complained for the fourth time, flipping the visor down to look at herself in the mirror. The soft, beachy waves in her short hair made her look younger. The pale plum pout made her look sophisticated, well-matched, and put together - three things Chloe was decidedly not.

"You look great," Rachel corrected, pulling into a gated community. "You always look great." Chloe wanted to point out the irony of the words, given the fact that the flawless Rachel Amber was the one to utter them, but swallowed it down. Rachel swiped a badge in front of a reader and drove through the opening wrought-iron fence, the car gliding quietly into the immaculate neighborhood.

"Fucking christ," Chloe groaned, sinking into her seat. "Rachel, this is a terrible idea. I'll walk back-" Rachel hit the brake, making Chloe shout as she hit the seatbelt. "What the-"

Rachel kissed her cheek then jaw, long and lingering, before whispering, "I don't care what they think, and neither should you. Let's eat, make them vaguely uncomfortable, and then go home."

Chloe bit her lower lip. "What are we telling them? About... us." It had been close to two weeks of their partnership, and no definition had come up in that time. They had spent more nights together than apart in that time. In spite of somehow not having sex yet, they were quite intimately acquainted with one another.

"What do you want to tell them?" Rachel asked.

Chloe looked down at where Rachel's hand hovered on the stick shift, wanting to take it in hers but refraining. "They're _your_ parents; I don't know."

Rachel kissed her cheek again before easing off of the brake and cruising further into the neighborhood. "We don't have to tell them anything if that's what you prefer."

Chloe didn't answer, watching the homes slide by. They were gradually getting grander and whiter, pale pillars and cloud-colored arches. "I've never seen houses this nice," Chloe mumbled.

Rachel snorted. "They're just people hiding behind their wealth. You're better than all of them."

Chloe rolled her eyes but said nothing. It was easy for rebellious rich kids to say those things; it was much harder when you came from nothing, always on the outside looking in.

As they drove, the houses began to become smaller again until, finally, they stopped in front of a gorgeous but modestly-sized home. It was dark wood and boasted a stained-glass door large enough for a car to drive through. Even so, it was much more to Chloe's speed than the monstrosities they had passed on their way in.

Rachel and Chloe slid out of the car and Rachel came around to Chloe's side, grabbing her hands and squeezing. "You okay?" she asked kindly.

"I think so," Chloe murmured, turning her gaze from the house to Rachel. "I'm going to ruin this."

Rachel rose to her tiptoes, kissing her gently. "You're not going to ruin anything. And even if you do," she added, giving Chloe's fingers another squeeze, "they're not going to hate you. And even if they do, fuck them - I can do what I want." She said that a lot - fuck him, fuck her, fuck them. Chloe wondered if Rachel would ever say it about her. Rachel kissed her again, a lingering one this time, before smiling gently. "I'll protect you."

Chloe breathed out a laugh and nodded. "Let's go." To her surprise, Rachel didn't release one of her hands, choosing to hold it as they walked toward the front door.

Rachel's step-mother, a dark-haired, kind-faced woman around fifty, opened the door before they could even reach it. Chloe flushed, assuming Rachel's parents had seen their exchange in the driveway. "Rachel!" The woman exclaimed, thrilled, pulling the blonde into her arms. "It's been so long!" She released her and smiled at Chloe. "You must be Chloe! Happy Thanksgiving!"

Chloe opened her mouth to return the greeting awkwardly, but Rose was abruptly hugging her, too. "I, um... thank you for having me?" It came out more of a question than she intended, but Rose only laughed, pulling the girls inside.

"Your father is on a call in his study," she said, pulling them past a closed door near the entryway. "Wine? Chloe, do you drink wine?"

"Um, yeah," Chloe replied slowly, hovering in her navy, knee-length shift. It was an overpriced gift from Rachel, one that the blonde rationalized with, _Everyone in Highland needs a proper cocktail dress, Chloe. How else can you belittle lowly waitstaff into submission?_ "Do you... do you need any help?"

"Sure! Could you put together the salad? Rachel, honey, come set the table."

Before Rachel could follow Chloe, the closed door opened. Rachel's father emerged, face split into a grin. "Did I hear my girl?" He wrapped Rachel in a hug, which Chloe enviously watched between each carrot slice. She hadn't expected to feel jealous to see Rachel with a loving father, but she did.

It didn't take long for James to scan the open floorplan, eyes finding Chloe. He smiled and made his way toward the kitchen, Rachel at his heels. "Chloe! Nice to meet you," he said, though his tone was a bit guarded. "I wish I could say Rachel told us so much about you, but I'm afraid I would be lying."

"Dad," Rachel groaned.

Chloe cleared her throat and forced a smile. "It's nice to meet you, too. I'm, um... we haven't really known each other for a super long time or anything."

"Oh, when did you meet?" Rose asked. She, too, suddenly looked unsure.

"At a show a few months ago," Rachel grossly exaggerated. "She was at the bar, and I made her dance with me." She didn't add that they'd gone home together that night, but Chloe could understand why.

"Are you still going to those little rock shows?" James asked, his frown deepening for a moment.

"James," Rose warned softly.

"Dad," Rachel moaned, rolling her eyes. She smiled over at Chloe, the tilt of her lips suddenly mischevious. "Hey, were you still looking for an assistant at your downtown precinct? Chloe's been thinking of getting a job closer to my place."

James thought about it for a moment. "They filled that one about a month ago, but the police chief at South Pasadena has an administrative manager going on maternity for the next six months. Have you ever managed employees, Chloe?"

Chloe flushed, eyes widening in irritation at Rachel before turning to Mr. Amber. "I, ah. I'm not actually qualified for that type of thing. I've only worked retail."

Rachel sighed and grabbed a paring knife from the block, beginning to cut cucumbers in halting, uneven slices. "Chloe doesn't like praise."

"Chloe doesn't like unearned praise," Chloe corrected.

Rose chuckled and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "James, drink? Girls?"

"I'll have some of that bourbon," James said, attention drawn away by the sounds of football on the television.

"Go on, I'll bring it in," Rose shooed him off, turning an apologetic smile to the girls. "We have an earl-grey bourbon mix that is amazing, but I can make anything else you two would like, as long as-"

"As long as it's bourbon, beer, or vodka," Rachel finished for her, smirking. "Chloe, you want me to make you my signature drink?"

"Don't say yes," Rose advised.

Chloe, though, was too intrigued. "Sure?" Rose pursed down her smile, and Rachel abandoned her cucumber cutting to move to a liquor cabinet stocked with alcohol.

"Chloe, you're really good at this," Rose complimented, looking over the julienned carrots. "You must do a lot of cooking for yourself."

"Not much," Chloe admitted, finishing the final carrot and setting her knife aside. "I used to help my mom in her diner."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Rose beamed. "Which diner?"

"It's in Oregon," Chloe replied, feeling her palms beginning to sweat. Meeting parents had never been one of her strong suits, not that she had done it often - meeting Rachel's parents, the girl she was suddenly in love with, was a million times worse. "Arcadia Bay."

"Hmm," Rose murmured, brow furrowing. "I've never heard of it, but it sounds wonderful. The Pacific Northwest is breathtaking - we spent our honeymoon on Vancouver Island. Why did you leave?"

 _To get away from home,_ she thought, biting her tongue. _To find a hovel to crawl up in and let time and starvation do their thing._  "I just needed a change," Chloe finally replied, forcing a smile. "I'd lived there my whole life. I guess I just wanted some reliable sunshine."

She could tell Rose wanted to pry, but the woman politely did not. She instead patted Chloe's back sweetly, murmuring, "Well, how about you help me with these mashed potatoes, my talented chef-to-be?"

By the time she and Rose had all of the sides completed and the turkey plattered, Rachel had finished their ornate drinks. She handed one to Chloe, a sneaky smile on her face. "Drink up, Price."

Chloe sniffed the drink, narrowing her eyes at the object floating in the reddish-brown liquid. "Is that... a chili pepper?"

"Mmmhmmm," Rachel cooed, taking a sip from her drink, and then a bite of the pepper in it. She winced, coughed, and then took another drink as if it was nothing. "Try it," she pressed.

"Don't try it," Rose and James said together as they began taking food to the long glass table in the dining room. "She's been making that drink for years; I have yet to see anyone besides her finish a glass," James added.

"Chloe's tough, she can take it," Rachel shrugged his criticism off.

Chloe sighed and took a hesitant sip, wincing immediately. "What the hell is this?" she demanded, eyes watering. If felt like a gunshot sliding down her throat and into her belly, scraping off every cell it passed on the way down.

"I call it Hell Fire," Rachel enunciated with a flashy hand gesture before taking another drink. "Bourbon, beer, crushed chili, and maple syrup."

Chloe kept swallowing, trying to get the taste to make sense. She picked up the chili pepper and stirred the drink with it before taking a second pull, holding it in her mouth for as long as she could. It didn't taste as terrible the second time around - bordering on almost-pleasant, even - but Chloe knew her mascara was about to run with the way her eyes were watering.

"It's not bad," she managed through a burning throat.

"She's polite, too," Rose hummed in amusement. "The first one Rachel's brought over who hasn't immediately spit the stuff out."

"Come on, we don't want the bird going cold," James called from where he was already wielding a carving knife.

Rachel got Chloe a glass of water and a regular beer, taking pity on her test subject, and the pair joined Rachel's parents at the table. Rose looked over at where Chloe had settled herself next to Rachel, her smile gentle. "We aren't very religious, Chloe, but if you prefer to say grace, we can certainly do that."

Rachel snorted back a laugh, biting her lower lip. Chloe sent her a withering glare which turned into a smirk without her meaning for it to. "I'm definitely fine skipping it, Mrs. Amber," Chloe finally said.

"Please, just Rose."

Chloe hated when parents did that to her. "Rose." The name felt wrong on her tongue - unnatural. She barely knew the woman; her kindness was unsettling. Chloe hadn't expected anything less, but she also expected some level of distrust.

But, she had to remind herself, she had shown up in a professional dress with flawless, natural makeup, and on the arm of their 'level-headed' daughter.

As if sensing her unease, Rachel's hand found her knee under the table, squeezing gently. Chloe's fingers entwined with hers for a moment before pulling back and placing her napkin on her lap, attempting to remember all of the manners Joyce had tried to drill into her.

 

* * *

 

The dinner had gone by without a hitch - until dessert. Chloe was so full she was sure the seams on her dress would bust, but she accepted small slices of pumpkin and pecan pie, not wanting to seem rude. Rose and James had been speaking animatedly about their plans to fund a restoration on a local movie theater close to bankruptcy, leaving Chloe and Rachel to focus on their endless cycle of drinking.

"It's been in our neighborhood for close to a century," Rose breathed. "I had my first kiss there!"

"Isn't that where you and Mom met?" Rachel asked suddenly, putting her third glass of Hell Fire down.

Chloe kept forgetting that Rose wasn't Rachel's biological mother. They were so natural with one another, so loving, that it made Chloe wonder about the mother who Rachel never mentioned.

Mr. Amber's warm, open expression hardened. "Yes. She worked there in high school."

Chloe looked between James and Rose, eyes narrowing. There had been a decided shift in the tone of the room, and it had not been a good one. Rachel sensed it, sitting up straighter. "Have you heard anything from her?" she asked finally.

Mr. Amber cleared his throat, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Maybe we should discuss this at a later time, Princess. Come for dinner next week, maybe?"

Rachel's eyebrows furrowed, and her hand found Chloe's under the table. "What's going on?"

"Sweetheart," Rose tried gently.

"She always texts back," Rachel added, her voice rising. "Did she relapse? Is she in the hospital?"

"No," James sighed, casting a furtive glance at Chloe.

"Is she sick? Is she in jail?" Rachel continued, her grip on Chloe tightening painfully.

"Princess, let's have a nice Thanksgiving-"

"What are you hiding?!" Rachel snapped. Chloe froze, eyes wide and trained on the side of Rachel's face that she could see. The girl had gone red, her eyes narrowed. "Just fucking tell me!"

Mr. Amber swallowed and set his jaw. Chloe recognized the expression - Rachel did the same thing when upset. "She loved you; you know that."

Rachel's hand went slack. "What?" she whispered.

"A city worker found her in an old foundry," James finally said, letting out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I was going to tell you after the holidays-"

"After the holi _days_ \-- what, January 2nd? You were going to wait until _next year_ to tell me?" Rachel sounded lost, her eyes fixed on her uneaten pie. "When did it happen? How?"

"She overdosed. Two weeks ago."

"Fuck," Rachel hissed, her hand leaving Chloe's so that she could hold her forehead.

"Rachel, honey-" Rose began, reaching her hand across the table. Rachel flinched away from it as if it was venomous, her face a mask of fury.

"How dare you," she hissed at her father, getting to her feet so quickly that her chair slammed against the wall, falling sideways. "You were going to wait to tell me that my fucking mother died? Who -- how -- _fuck!"_

Chloe reached out, to do what she wasn't sure, but Rachel grabbed her plate and flung it against the wall, an animalistic shriek slipping from her lips. Her half-full glass of Hell Fire barely missed James Amber's face as it whizzed through the air, smashing against a gorgeous painting.

And then she was gone, running around the corner. Her feet pounded up the stairs and toward what Chloe only guessed was her old bedroom, the door slam rattling everything around them.

James' head sank into his upturned palms, much like his daughter's had, and Rose moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her eyes were damp when she looked at Chloe. "Upstairs, the last door on the right."

Chloe said nothing, getting out of her chair and following Rachel's path. When she came to the indicated door, she knocked gently. "Rach," she called hesitantly. "Do you need -- can I come in?"

It was silent for so long that Chloe assumed that she wasn't wanted. Before she could sit down in the hallway, Rachel's choked voice called, "Come in."

It was dark in her room, but Chloe forwent turning on the overhead light. She found a small nightlight, though, and clicked it on. Soft blue light filtered in, casting melancholy stars around the room, spinning slowly like the night sky.

"Come 'ere," Rachel mumbled.

Chloe went to her a little too quickly, a little too eagerly, and slipped onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around Rachel without prompting, and Rachel tucked her face against Chloe's clavicle. Chloe wanted to apologize; she wanted to wipe Rachel's tears away, she wanted to ask what she could do. But she only held her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

"She was an addict, too," Rachel whispered finally, voice slightly muffled by Chloe's dress. "She has... _had_ been clean for years. She wanted to be back in my life. She helped me get into rehab, to get straight. And now she goes and -- she -- she fucking-" the crying began again, her shoulders jumping in halting, hiccuping sobs.

When she settled, her body melting in what Chloe could only guess was exhaustion, she murmured, "She's the only person who I knew loved me for me. Even my flaws. She wasn't embarrassed about me getting into drugs, hooking up with random older guys, or dropping out of college. She loved me no matter what. Unconditional. I don't think anyone else ever has. Not Rose; not even my dad."

Chloe knew it wasn't true. Chloe knew that her father and Rose loved her and wanted to protect her, even when they did it terribly. But Chloe didn't say that - it wasn't what Rachel needed. "I love you," Chloe replied softly.

Rachel laughed, the sound sad. "You shouldn't."

"Doesn't change the fact."

"You barely know me."

"Also doesn't change anything. Self-rising relationship, remember?"

Rachel pulled back only enough to meet her gaze, eyes still swimming in tears. "You'll end up regretting it." But then she kissed her and Chloe forgot the foreboding words.

Rachel fell asleep quickly, depleted from the evening, but Chloe continued to rub her back, dusting kisses along the top of her head. She suddenly missed Joyce and all of her flaws.

There was a soft rap on the door at some point, rousing Chloe from her half-sleep. Rose's head poked into the room and, seeing that Rachel was asleep, she slipped in. She offered Chloe a sad smile, grabbing a throw blanket from the back of Rachel's desk chair, draping it over them. "Thank you," Rose murmured, touching Chloe's arm. "For being here for her. This wasn't... this shouldn't have happened like this. We should have told her sooner."

"You should have," Chloe agreed, arm reflexively tightening around Rachel. "But... you love her. Just make sure she knows it."

Rose patted her arm, smile sad. "We will." She leaned down to kiss Rachel's temple. "Goodnight, Chloe," Rose called gently as she moved toward the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

Chloe hadn't slept much through the night. She would wake anytime Rachel moved or shifted position, always protectively curling around her. Chloe watched the clock on the side table, at how the numbers begrudgingly changed, and wished for sunrise. She wanted to get Rachel out of the house; she wanted to get Rachel home and in her own bed.

Rachel finally roused around seven, her face puffy and makeup smeared. Chloe tried to reach for her when she sat up, but Rachel moved away and stood, not looking at Chloe. "I need to wash my face," Rachel mumbled. "Keep sleeping."

"I'm awake," Chloe replied quickly, sitting up as if to showcase the accuracy of her words.

Rachel said nothing, slipping out of the room.

Chloe loitered on the bed, confused, before standing and brushing her hands over the wrinkled dress. She wasn't sure if she would ever get the creases out of the expensive shift, but she also didn't care - there was more to worry about.

She went downstairs, trying to rub her smeared mascara off of her cheeks. James was in the living room, reading a newspaper and drinking from a tumbler of dark liquid. He looked up quickly when Chloe rounded the corner of the stairs, hopeful gaze dying. "Oh. Chloe. Good morning."

"Morning," she replied awkwardly, standing at the foot of the stairs, unsure what to do.

"Come sit," he offered, closing the newspaper. When she did, he continued, "I would ask if you slept well, but considering everything," he trailed off, but he didn't need to continue.

"Yeah. Rough night for everyone," she mumbled.

They sat in silence, Mr. Amber drinking and Chloe picking at her cuticles. It felt like forever before Rachel came down the stairs, face red from scrubbing her makeup off.

"Rachel," James said immediately, getting to his feet, reaching out as if asking for permission to hug her.

"Sit down," she said without any heat, going to the front door, shoving her feet into her heels. "We're going home."

"Rachel, please."

"Which foundry?" Rachel asked, not looking at him. When he didn't answer, she snapped, "Which fucking foundry? Where is it?"

James let out a defeated sigh, sinking into his chair. "Rattlesnake Crossing off of 39. You can't get there, Rachel. That stretch of 39's been closed for decades for a reason; you can't even get past the barricades without a city crew."

"Send me the address."

"There isn't an address," he insisted, running a hand over his head. "That place has been gone for ages, Rachel."

"Then text me the GPS coordinates. Directions, too."

James looked at Chloe imploringly. Chloe wanted to ask Rachel not to make a decision rashly, but she wanted to show Rachel she was in this. "Just send her the directions. It's safer than us trying to find it on our own."

The words had an effect. James' face crumpled slightly, just a slender chink in his armor, but he nodded. "Alright."

Rachel opened the front door and glided through it, not saying another word. Chloe mumbled a thank you before jogging after Rachel. She got into the car and sat while Rachel fumed. It didn't take long for Rachel's phone to chime with a text - the directions, Chloe knew without looking.

"Are you up for an adventure later?" Rachel asked, jaw clenched.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Rachel chuckled humorlessly. Her foot tapped the gas pedal sharply, the car jolting backward down the driveway. "I guess not."

 

* * *

 

Chloe would have been thrilled to take the road trip up steep, winding cliffs under normal circumstances. She would have delighted at the fact that they were going to be driving through a roadblock and into dangerous territory. Her heart would have thundered in eagerness at the thought of landslides destroying the part of the road leading to the factory.

But all she felt was sick deep in her belly, anxiously looking between the road, sharp curves barely visible, and Rachel's blank face. Chloe wasn't sure if there was anything anyone could do to make things better, so she had resigned herself to let Rachel lead, come what may - death by bear mauling the most likely scenario.

The first roadblock was a pair of signs. Rachel blew through them without even slowing down, Chloe flinching as the cautionary wood crunched under the tires. The second roadblock was impossible to ignore - it was a massive metal barricade, the steal arm warning "ROAD CLOSED" in glaring, reflective letters.

Rachel pulled to a stop, glancing at her phone. She read through James' message again before looking up at Chloe. "You can stay in the car."

"You know I'm not going to do that," Chloe scoffed, getting out of the vehicle and pocketing her phone, heart already pounding.

Rachel followed her, locking the car with a loud beep, and jogged to join her at the orange arm. Before they could climb over it, Rachel grabbed Chloe's wrist, pulling her back. "You don't have to do this for me."

Chloe smirked. "Getting cold feet, Amber?"

Rachel's lips twitched. "Do you take me for someone who regrets any stupid ideas?"

Chloe shrugged nonchalantly, sliding over the metal arm with little difficulty thanks to her long legs. She reached back to Rachel, who was not as lucky in the limbs department, and helped her over. She kept her hands on Rachel's waist for a moment, trying to think of something sweet to say. Instead, she blustered. "I'm just saying, this seems more in my wheelhouse than yours, _Princess."_

"Ungh," Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Please never call me that."

"Yeah, it felt creepy as soon as I said it."

Rachel actually laughed for the first time in over 24 hours, squeezing Chloe's hand before switching her phone over to flashlight mode. "Let's go."

They walked for close to two hours, taking an overgrown and rock-strewn path off of 39. The path intercepted an even worse road, chunks of concrete swept off in a landslide that happened in the 70's. The sky was growing darker by the minute, and Chloe was almost sure they were lost and would be dead within the day.

She opened her mouth to say as much when Rachel came to a halt, shoes crunching through a pothole of debris. "We're here."

Chloe looked up, startled to find that, while looking down at her feet to make sure she didn't trip, the trees and shrubbery had given way to cleared land. A massive mining operation and a large wooden building boasting _Rattlesnake Crossing_ was all that she could see through the darkening dusk.

"Holy shit," Chloe said, surprised. She expected Rachel to mock her gently, but Rachel wasn't paying any attention to Chloe. She began walking, quicker this time, sliding on gravel occasionally but never falling. Chloe tried to keep up but fell behind, not catching up until Rachel was tearing police caution tape off of what was once a doorway.

Chloe turned her phone's flashlight on, too, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. She thought she heard steps all around, scuttles and maybe even a growl. But she said nothing and kept close to Rachel, ready to grab her and pull her out if needed.

Rachel came to a halt again, another gaping hole that was once a door covered in police tape. Rachel stood there, staring at it, blinking rapidly.

Chloe pocketed her phone and stepped up to the tape, grabbing her pocket knife and slicing the ribbons down the middle. Rachel didn't even glance at her as she stepped through. The flashlight slid around the room, casting murky, light through particles of dust in the air.

Chloe followed slowly, her phone in hand again, illuminating the area in front of her. There was nothing - absolutely nothing but old rocks and wood.

Rachel let out a strange noise and began walking toward the south side of the room. Chloe followed, her own light joining Rachel's, giving life to a worn, half-rotted table in the corner. There was a chair on its side and a layer of smashed, fine glass near its legs, a plastic syringe plunger not far away.

Rachel fell to her knees, her phone clattering to the dirty floor. She stared vacantly at the chair, unblinking. Chloe loitered behind her, unsure what to do. Her flashlight was fixed on the table, trying not to focus on or look at the chair.

It felt as if hours had stretched on before Rachel stood, reaching into her back pocket and producing a slim envelope. It was yellowed in the torch's light, a water stain marring the sender line. Chloe caught the letter's recipient line, though - _Rachel Dawn,_ written in a loopy, perfect hand.

"Rachel," Chloe murmured, reaching out to place her hand on Rachel's shoulder. The girl flinched slightly but did not brush her away or turn around. She grabbed a cigarette from her other pocket, putting her hand over her shoulder.

"Do you have a light?" Rachel asked, her voice empty, calm.

"Rachel," Chloe repeated. When the girl didn't turn or react, Chloe pulled her lighter out, handing it over.

"Thanks," Rachel mumbled around the cigarette, lighting it. She took a deep breath before turning to Chloe, holding the letter up. "She promised me she was clean for life. I was sixteen when I got this letter. She was suddenly in my life. She swore she was going to be the mom she should have been before. You know, typical parental guilt," she laughed wryly. She took another drag. "She forced me to go to rehab when she found out Frank got me hooked. She went through NA with me. She was my sponsor. She-" Rachel broke off, a strangled, angry noise falling from her lips.

"I'm so sorry," Chloe whispered.

"I know," Rachel said, eyes glassy. "You love me. For now."

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rachel smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She flicked the lighter and lit the letter, tossing it onto the sagging wooden table. She didn't look at the table as it went up, the dry wood sucking the flames in and belching them out even larger and hotter. She looked at Chloe, at the horror and flames reflecting in her blue eyes.

"Rachel, what the fuck," Chloe breathed, appalled. Rachel stood there, serene, framed in hellfire. Chloe grabbed Rachel's wrist and dragged her out of the room, her feet leaden but somehow carrying them both.

They had just cleared the foundry land, the forest filling in around them when Rachel harshly pulled her hand out of Chloe's. Chloe turned, wide-eyed, onto the blonde. "What the fuck?!" she repeated. "Why -- why did you -- _jesus fucking christ,_ Rachel!"

Rachel was suddenly on her, hand on the back of Chloe's neck, dragging her down into a bruising kiss, her fingers tearing at Chloe's threadbare shirt, ripping it down the middle. Chloe gasped, brain swimming in confusion, her hands moving without her permission. She pushed Rachel's jacket off of her shoulders in one harsh jerk, shoving her off of the trail and against a tree, drawing a muffled shout from the girl. Chloe's hands were on Rachel's jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper before freezing, pulling away from Rachel's invasive tongue. "We have to go."

"Chloe, fuck me," Rachel ordered, pulling Chloe's neck harshly toward her.

"Rachel!" Chloe snapped, shaking her arms, "we need to fucking go. This fire is gonna get bigger, and someone is eventually going to notice! We need to be gone by then."

"They won't be looking for two girls in the woods-" she broke off, eyes widening. "Fuck. The car. _Fuck."_

Chloe grabbed Rachel's jacket, then her wrist. Their flashlights bounced along as they tripped and fell over rocks and ancient downed trees. The tumbles had torn Chloe's jeans and legs, and her arms were bleeding in more than a few places. Rachel had somehow managed to stay in one piece in spite of countless falls.

They made it to the car just as sirens were beginning to wail below them. "What do we do? Where are we going to go?" Chloe asked, hands shaking.

"Browns Gulch. Get in the car," was all Rachel said, starting the engine. Chloe did as told, trying to keep her brain from exploding. Arson. Fucking _arson. Arson_ that would probably lead to a wildfire. Rachel was going to jail; Chloe, too, more than likely.

Rachel tore down the road, the sirens becoming louder and closer. She pulled off of the pavement into a copse of trees two miles away from Browns Gulch.

"Rachel!"

Rachel didn't answer. She leaned over Chloe's lap, opening her glove box and fishing out a baggie of joints. She lit one with Chloe's lighter, taking a huge puff.

"Rachel, what are we doing?!" Chloe demanded.

Rachel dragged on the joint and blew it on her clothing, doing the same to Chloe's. "We smell like woodsmoke," she said between breaths. "We can't smell like woodsmoke."

"We need to get out of here," Chloe hissed, waving smoke out of her face.

"It's too late," Rachel shrugged, putting the joint out in a half-empty bottle of water. "Get in the back seat." When Chloe didn't move, Rachel shouted, "Now!"

They were both in the back seat in less than a minute. Rachel pulled her shirt off and unbuttoned her pants, and then Chloe's. "We have about two minutes. Let's make it count."

Before Chloe could object, Rachel was on her, her mouth dragging its way from her lips to her sternum, pulling her bra down to lick across her nipples, seeking fingers slipping under her panties.

Chloe was panting, torn between giving in to the desire in her body and the knowledge that they were going to jail. She pushed the second thought from her head as best and she could, pulling Rachel down to lay on top of her, their mouths crushing together.

A handful of sirens passed them. Another handful stopped outside of the car, lights casting Rachel in red for the second time that night. There was shouting outside of the car. Rachel sat up, skewed her bra, and offered Chloe a sad smile. "Hope you've learned how to lie, Price." And then she leaned over Chloe to open the door. "What the fuck?" she called loudly over the sound of police officers shouting at them.

One officer came to them immediately, flashlight sweeping through the car and blinding Chloe. "What are you two doing out here?" he demanded.

Chloe snorted, pretending like she wasn't lying to a cop after witnessing someone commit a felony. "I thought that might be obvious."

"Chloe, shut up," Rachel hissed, pretending to be embarrassed as she fixed her bra. "We, um... we wanted to see the view. And we got carried away."

The police officer was silent; Chloe wished that she could see his face, but the flashlight was still on her. He finally let out a sharp sigh. "You realize I could fine you out the ass for this, right?" Before Rachel could protest, he snapped, "Get the fuck out of here; there's a goddamn forest fire."

"A forest fire?!" Rachel wheezed. Chloe couldn't see her, but she knew Rachel's eyes had widened in shock and terror.

"Chill, babe, fire can't get into a car," Chloe tried to say without laughing at the absurdity or wailing from the tight, hot feeling in her chest.

The officer sighed again. Chloe must have gotten some kind of second-hand high because she wondered if he practiced his sighing - it was quite expressive. He clicked off the flashlight and turned away, calling, "Just some kids getting high and fucking. Let's go." Chloe thought she heard him add to another cop, "Got better things to do than deal with stupid kids."

"Fire can't get into a car?" Rachel quietly laughed in disbelief.

"They're just leaving?" Chloe breathed, confused, not hearing Rachel's words. "They didn't even take our names."

Rachel leaned over her to close the door again, lips hovering above Chloe's. "Privilege, Chloe. How do you think I haven't landed in prison yet?"

Chloe leaned up to kiss her, hard, and Rachel groaned. The blonde's hips began to undulate above her, the heat of their bodies making sweat blossom between Chloe's breasts.

"Do you still love me unconditionally, Price?" Rachel breathed, her hand sliding down to Chloe's apex, a finger slipping along her labia, dipping inside to flick across her clit. Chloe arched, letting out an anguished cry, and Rachel smirked at her. "Well?"

"Of course," Chloe answered, hating herself for it.

"Do I scare you yet?" Rachel continued, finger pressing a little harder as it stroked across her.

"No," Chloe moaned, voice coming out like a whine. _Yes. You terrify me._

Rachel groaned leaning her head back, finger speeding up. Chloe panted, ribcage feeling as if it might explode, and gripped Rachel's waist, watching as tears rolled down the girl's jaw and splashed along her neck.

Chloe came, the orgasm hot and sharp, just like Rachel's eyes when she started the fire. She sobbed past it, trying to catch her breath and her heart that kept trying to escape through her throat.

Rachel slowly pulled her hand away from Chloe, the gentle caress making Chloe's nerve ending fire and her abdomen clench. Rachel leaned down, cheeks wet, and whispered, "Ride or die, Price?"

"Always," Chloe breathed, reaching up to brush the tears from Rachel's flushed cheeks. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The sharp crack of the front door slamming against its casing jolted Rachel from Chloe's arms. Chloe scrambled up to reach for the hunting knife Rachel kept in the bedside table, fumbling with the leather case. Before she could retrieve it, though, James Amber was in the bedroom, face a mask of fury.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

Chloe looked at Rachel, eyes wide in a panic. Rachel was, as usual, unflappable. Her lovely lips scowled at her father. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," he snapped, turning his eyes to Chloe. "What did she do?"

Chloe kept her mouth shut, forcing her face to go stony as her arms crossed over her sheer bra. "I'm not sure you want to know what she does in bed, sir." Chloe knew Rachel would have laughed if she wasn't so busy feigning outrage.

"The foundry burned down," he hissed, eyes roving back to Rachel. _"To the ground,_ Rachel. There's nothing left."

Rachel let out a self-suffering sigh, getting to her feet and wandering toward her closet. "That's too bad. I wanted to see it."

"Rachel, you committed a felony," James spat through gritted teeth, grabbing her arm and yanking her back. "You could have started a goddamn forest fire if it weren't for that quarry."

Rachel stared at her father blankly. "Let go of my arm and get out of my apartment."

James Amber's cheek pulsed with angry muscle twitches, but he finally released her arm. "Are you using again?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto her right leg. "I'm clean, no thanks to you."

"Rachel-" Chloe breathed, attempting to calm the tension in the air.

James looked back at Chloe and then to Rachel. "Can I trust anything you tell me, Rachel? How can I after all of this? After a lifetime of lies everytime you get cornered?"

"You're one to talk," Rachel seethed. "Keeping things from me. Pretending Mom didn't exist for sixteen goddamn years. Pretending you didn't know she died."

James ran a hand over his face. He sounded exhausted when he sighed, "There were reasons we didn't say anything. We hoped you wouldn't become her, mostly. But I suppose we didn't account for nature overpowering nurture."

The words hit Rachel across the face like a physical slap; she stagged backward, the hurt on her features immediate and all-consuming. Chloe moved to get off of the bed, to go to Rachel's aid, but Rachel shook her head, looking at the wall with a clenched jaw. "Get out."

James' hand ran through his hair. "Get your car fixed. Your front end looks like you mowed down a road block sign." And then he was gone, muttering to himself.

Rachel came back to bed, drawing Chloe down to her. They laid like that, silent, until Rachel mumbled, "Breakfast?"

Chloe knew better than to pry when Rachel wasn't ready to talk. The wound was too fresh, and Rachel wanted time with it before opening up. "Sure," Chloe replied. "I make pretty decent omelets."

"Perfect," Rachel said, though she sounded as if she hadn't heard Chloe's words. Chloe didn't press; she simply kissed Rachel's wrist and slipped out of bed.

 

* * *

 

Chloe had just opened Rachel's laptop to check in on her social media pages when a message popped up. Max, in her infinite need to be prepared, was seriously asking if she needed a coat for her visit.

 

 

Chloe furrowed her brow at the text before slamming the laptop and running to the television, turning it to channel 5. The KTLA announcers were in the middle of talking over a live chopper feed. Three buildings in the Warehouse District had caught fire in the middle of the night, just 48 hours after Rachel's fire had snagged media attention.

"-arsonist in the City of Angels."

"We will be joined by arson investigator Daniel Agese from the LAPD any moment now for more details regarding the fire off of State Road 39 two days ago."

"Yes, until then, we are watching the battle to set out these fires in the Warehouse District. Emergency crews are on-site, and the fires seem to be 80% contained."

"Hopefully they will be fully contained soon, Craig. I would hate to see these spread."

The front door opened, and Rachel stumbled in with an armful of groceries, looking exhausted. Chloe would have run to help her, but she was rooted to the couch. "I tried calling you," Rachel breathed as she closed the door behind her. "Your phone must have died or something, I couldn't get through. What do you think about burgers for dinner? I don't know why, burgers sound-" When Rachel glanced over at her, she stopped in her tracks, lowering the canvas sacks on the floor. "What?"

"There are more fires," Chloe breathed. "Rachel... there are more fires." Rachel came to join her on the couch, watching the television with open confusion. "You didn't...?"

Rachel looked offended. "No! Jesus, Chloe!" She pulled her phone from her pocket and grimaced. "That's what the city alert was for earlier. I didn't... Jesus."

Chloe turned her attention back to the television where a man in a windbreaker and horrible mustache was talking in front of the burnt husk that was once Rattlesnake Crossing. "-typically start fires in places that are remote and can't cause human injury."

"Do they typically move on to more populated areas?"

"Sometimes - it all depends on the perpetrator and, unfortunately, it takes a few fires to form a proper profile. What we do know is that firebugs tend to, statistically, be white, middle-aged men. Usually there is a catalyst for the behavior - a death in the family, a divorce, loss of a job - something life-altering."

"Do you think residents in the community should be worried about arsons in their neighborhoods? What can we look out for?"

"Of course keep on alert for suspicious activities - if you see someone you don't recognize looking around yards, in windows, call the police. Be on alert, but we ask that this not cause a hysteria. From what we are seeing, this is very likely a spree-firebug who is targetting vacant properties."

"But they might be working their way up to occupied businesses or homes?"

"...It is possible, but we'd like to remind the public that we have no indication that these fires are intended to cause bodily harm."

"Daniel Agese, thank you so much. For those of you just tuning in, three fires have-"

Rachel was blank-faced as she leaned back into the couch, worrying her lower lip. "It's Dad."

Chloe's head sank into her upturned palms. "Rachel, _fuck."_

"He's trying to protect me. Us."

Chloe received the gut-wrenching reminder that she, too, was involved. She knew James Amber was doing this to save his daughter, but he was protecting her, as well. "Fuck. What do we do?"

"Nothing," Rachel shrugged as if it wasn't an issue. She got up and grabbed the groceries, taking them into the kitchen. While she put things away in the fridge and pantry, Chloe sat in stunned silence, watching the flames on the television slowly lessen.

"We have an update on the Rattlesnake Crossing fire," one of the anchors informed, the feed of the warehouse fires becoming a small rectangle in the corner of the screen. The anchor's face pinched up. "Now we go to Police Chief Damien Holt's press conference."

The feed changed to the harried LAPD chief, his face drawn up in a terse frown as he stood at a podium, flanked by other uniformed men. "I'm sorry to drag you all out here this late," he said finally, clearing his throat. "The fire at Rattlesnake Crossing was determined to be arson. There was no presence of chemical accelerant. From Daniel Agese's report, we have determined that the fire started in a back room where dried wood was abundant."

"Chief Holt," one of the reporters called.

"We are taking no questions at this time," Holt replied firmly. "This is still an active investigation and, due to the current fires, we still have a lot of information to collect and process." He cleared his throat again, glancing down at the paper in front of him.

"Turn it off," Rachel asked from over Chloe's shoulder. But Chloe didn't, and she soon wished she had.

"There was one casualty in the Rattlesnake Crossing fire," he said. "Dental records returned no information, so we do not have a name or family to contact." Photo flashes filled the room, but Holt continued through the onslaught. "We are under the impression that the person was living in the factory - we have found signs of flammable materials in the quarry entrance below the foundry, possibly bedding."

"Chief!"

"No questions," Holt repeated. "When we have more information for the public, we will release it. Thank you and goodnight."

"Turn it off," Rachel repeated, tone cold.

Chloe did as she was asked, her hands trembling. Someone was living there. The scratching, strange noises she heard as they walked through the foundry... someone was right below them, unaware he - or she - was about to die. How did the police not find them when Rachel's mom had overdosed? How did they not get out before the fire? "Rachel-"

"Are burgers okay for dinner?"

"Rach."

"Chloe, drop it!" Rachel snapped. "I don't want to fucking talk about it!"

The silence that followed was deafening, Chloe's ears ringing hotly. Rachel went back to the kitchen, banging around before taking a plate of shaped ground beef to the grill on the deck. Chloe looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, toward the smoke she hadn't noticed before. It was far off, but she could see it clearly in the light pollution of the city.

The smoke was thick and brown, casting a haze over the Warehouse District. She let out a shuddering breath and got to her feet. Rachel had started the grill and was leaning on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and watching the haze. Chloe wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist, head falling to her shoulder.

"I didn't want this," Rachel whispered.

"I know."

"Do you?" Rachel turned in her arms, hazel eyes hard as they gazed at Chloe. "Do you really know that?"

Her tone made Chloe question it for a brief second, but she shook her head anyway. "I know, Rachel."

Rachel handed Chloe her cigarette and went inside, leaving Chloe in the muggy, smoke-scented heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The facebook profile pic for Max is thanks to the amazing Creative Commons initiative. CC finds free-to-use pictures that are able to be manipulated and used without the worry of copyright infringement. Even so, here is the link to [the full photo.](https://pxhere.com/en/photo/957875)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence against women; rough sex; breathplay.

* * *

 

Chloe spent the rest of that night worrying about Rachel's aloofness. She wouldn't let Chloe touch her and spent most of her time in the bathroom or laying on the edge of the bed, back to Chloe. Her worries died the next morning when she came out of the bedroom to find Rachel sobbing on the kitchen floor, a half-cut melon sitting on the counter, a knife on the ground. Chloe went to her without hesitation and, without hesitation, Rachel grabbed her, clinging to her neck.

"I'm so sorry," she kept hiccuping between breaths.

Chloe wasn't sure if the apology was for her or the person who had died in Rachel's fire. Their fire. Chloe had to keep reminding herself that she was just as at fault by this point. She said nothing, rubbing Rachel's back in lieu of words.

When Rachel settled, sagging into Chloe's grip as if she had lost all will to keep herself upright, Chloe murmured, "How can I help?"

"You're already helping," was her muffled response. When she finally pulled back, wiping at her swollen, tear-streaked face, she whispered, "Frank wants to go out tonight."

Chloe felt the words like a punch to the gut. She had almost forgotten that Frank existed, given their whirlwind romance and the fire. "Oh. Okay."

"Can you come, too?" Rachel asked, her eyes imploring and still swimming in tears. She looked pitiful and beautiful. "I can't do it alone."

"Sure," Chloe said before she could stop herself. She wanted to ask what the love-triangle would amount to - if Rachel even knew - but Rachel kissed her cheek and departed for the bathroom before Chloe could find the words.

Chloe sat on the tile for a few moments, staring vacantly at a cherry-oak cabinet that had probably cost more than Chloe's former job paid in a month. Chloe winced and got to her feet, cleaning off the fallen knife and taking over breakfast duties.

 

* * *

 

Frank was fucked up; Chloe had enough experience watching tweakers around her former apartment complex to recognize the signs. Whatever he was on, it didn't seem to be agreeing with him much. He was agitated, openly standoffish, and had already spilled a full beer on Chloe's jeans - possibly on purpose. Chloe spent most of her time drinking heavily, attempting to ignore Frank's gaze, and watching Rachel on the dancefloor.

"She's going to leave, you know," Frank said finally, leaning across the small table. He was too close, smelling like chemicals and something burnt. "She does this - finds playthings to rile up. She gets bored quick, though; I'm surprised you're still around."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe replied slowly, weighing her words. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him. She wasn't sure if heroin was as volatile as meth, the drug she was accustomed to seeing, but she didn't want to take chances.

Frank snorted, shaking his head. "You think I don't know what she's up to when she disappears? We've been together for seven fucking years, Price. I know her better than she knows herself."

Chloe leaned back in her chair, fingers tightening around her glass of whiskey. "Sorry, dude, I think you've got the wrong idea."

Frank rolled his eyes and grabbed a cigarette from the pack Rachel left on the table. "You're her type. Kind of cute if ya squint, awkward, wanting to be dangerous but not quite making it." He laughed, the sound sharp, and lit his cigarette. "I give you two months, tops. Domestic bores her, and you're as domestic as they come."

"Fuck you," Chloe snapped.

"There you go! Get that little bit of an edge. That's what turns her on. But you can't keep it up, can you? Because the second she bats those eyes, you melt and she's some kind of fallen angel." He snorted again, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "You haven't even got to fuck her yet, have you?"

Chloe swallowed. Frank grinned wolfishly.

"That's what I thought. She's a giving girl because she likes the control. Once she gives that up, she'll get bored. It's all part of her game, Price, and you're right in the middle of it."

Chloe stood abruptly, knocking her chair back. "Sober the fuck up," she hissed.

"I think I'll do the opposite," he replied, getting to his feet and heading toward the door.

Chloe stood there for a moment, heart hammering, before stalking to the bathroom, her blood boiling. She barged in, startling two girls doing their makeup, and slammed a stall door open. Collapsing onto the toilet, Chloe breathed heavily, running a hand through her tousled hair, gritting her teeth and trying to make her hands stop trembling.

She didn't want to believe Frank, but it was hard not to. She'd known it was too good to be true.

She relearned how to breathe, focusing on the dirt-smeared tiles until the anxious girls at the mirror left, the bathroom eerily quiet. Chloe let out a breath and got up, pushing her way out of the stall and to the closest sink, tossing cold water on her face. She didn't care about her carefully done makeup or her hair frizzing. All she cared about was getting some space from Rachel and determining how to grow a backbone for more than ten seconds.

The bathroom door opened and, as if sensing her despair, Rachel stood there. She looked concerned and when Chloe turned on her, eyes hard, her expression morphed to confusion. "Chloe, what's wro-"

"What number am I?" she interrupted. "Of your toys. The people you pick up and use, just to go back to Frank?"

Rachel's face fell, and she stepped into the bathroom, letting the door close behind her. "Chloe, this isn't that."

"Then what is it?" Chloe demanded, cheeks hot. "What the fuck can you say that makes this any better?"

"That -- those others, that was when I was high," she tried, stepping closer, hands out in an open, calming plea. "Chloe, I am not using you. I'm not. I was going to leave him tonight, but he was high and I... I didn't want a scene. I didn't want him to hurt you."

Chloe scoffed, wiping water from her face. "Your dad was right, wasn't he? You can't be trusted to tell the truth when you get cornered."

"That's not fair!" Rachel snapped, hackles rising. "That's not -- fuck, Chloe! _I love you._ Alright? I don't know how, but you... you changed things. I love you."

Chloe felt a hot, cloying thing in her throat, trying to suffocate her. She didn't want to give in. She couldn't give in. "Make me believe it, then."

Rachel came to her, pulling her into a soft, lingering kiss, hands caressing Chloe's face and neck. "I promise," she whispered, smelling like menthol cigarettes and rum. "Chloe, you're what I want. Who I want. You make me regret all the things I should. You make me a better person."

It felt so real, but so rehearsed. It felt like she was pulling the words from a favorite movie. The anger flooded Chloe, and she pulled away, shoulders shaking and fists clenching. "No."

"Yes," she insisted, stepping forward again, cornering Chloe.

Chloe didn't realize she'd moved until she had Rachel pinned against the inside of a stall, hand around her neck, holding her in place. "I don't believe you."

"Chloe," Rachel breathed, but her expression had changed. She wasn't worried anymore - she was turned on. Her pupils were dark, nearly eclipsing her irises. "I love you."

Chloe tightened her grip on Rachel's throat - not enough to hurt, but more than enough to make a point. "Bullshit."

"Chloe," Rachel wheezed, breath coming faster. "Blue, please."

Chloe growled, pulling Rachel's throat forward before forcing it back, the blonde's head smacking against the metal wall of the stall, drawing a started gasp from her. "Say it again," Chloe ordered.

"Please," she whispered roughly.

Another shake, another aroused whimper from Rachel. "Tell me you love me. Make it convincing."

"I love you," Rachel said quickly, her eyes pleading. "Chloe, I love you. Unconditionally. Ride or die."

The lump in Chloe's throat grew, and she pushed Rachel against the wall again, her free hand fumbling to pull Rachel's skirt up and push her torn leggings down.

"Chloe," Rachel whined. "Chloe, kiss me."

"No," Chloe snapped. "Stay still." And then she dropped to her knees on the disgusting floor, ignoring the fact that she might need a tetanus shot afterward. She yanked Rachel's right leg to the rim of the toilet for support. Chloe's fingers tore Rachel's barely-there lace thong, the material falling in a ruined heap to the floor.

Chloe's mouth found her already dripping with arousal. Normally she would have taken her time lapping at the juices, cleaning her just to get her dirty all over again, but she didn't care enough to do that. Or perhaps she cared too much. Chloe couldn't understand what was happening, let alone what she was thinking when she moved in, tongue and mouth sucking and flicking across Rachel's swollen clit. Rachel's breath hitched with each pass, eventually giving way to loud moans, and then shouts of ardor when Chloe's teeth joined the game, scraping across her, fingers roughly forcing themselves into her.

Rachel was close - Chloe could hear it in the way she was panting Chloe's name and bucking her hips. Chloe thought about pulling away and leaving the bathroom to torture her, but she didn't get the chance. The bathroom door banged open. Chloe didn't care about that - what was the newcomer going to do, drag her out? - until Rachel shouted "Frank!"

Chloe didn't have time to pull away from Rachel. Frank was tearing her out of the stall by her hair, tossing her against the sinks. Chloe puffed, holding her side, trying to gasp past the pain. The thought of broken ribs flitted through her mind until she looked up to find Rachel huddled beside the toilet, holding her face, Frank reaching to pull her up.

He hit her in the stomach, a solid strike that Chloe could hear, and Rachel crumpled to the ground again, heaving the remnants of her drinks onto the floor. Frank's leg pulled back for a kick, shouting about her being a whore. Chloe saw it all so slowly - Frank hitting her, pulling her up to her feet just to beat her down again. She saw Rachel standing up against the police to protect a man she didn't even know. She saw Rachel framed by flames that would eventually kill a man.

Chloe stood and jammed her foot into the bend of Frank's knee, the man toppling onto Rachel and cursing hotly. Chloe grabbed his ankle and pulled him off of Rachel before her boot connected with his side. And then his head.

She wasn't sure how long she had been kicking him - all she knew was that Rachel pulled her out of the bathroom somehow and got her into the fresh air. Chloe gulped at it, eyes wildly taking in the parking lot around them and, beyond that, the road. "Is he dead?" she kept wheezing, her heart and head about to burst. She could barely hear Rachel assuring her that he was alive, that Chloe was fine, and that they needed to get home immediately.

Rachel dragged her to the road and flagged down a taxi, tossing him a hundred dollar bill and shouting her address as she hauled Chloe onto the cracked faux-leather seat. The drive seemed to take forever, Chloe still blinking back the blood-rage that had filled her.

Rachel, however, did not seem alarmed. She held Chloe to her, not letting up for a single second until they arrived at her complex. They made it through the lobby, ducking their heads while passing cameras. Once inside her apartment, Rachel tried to pull Chloe into the bathroom, but the sharp, hot anger inside Chloe hadn't left. "Get on the bed," Chloe commanded.

"Chloe-" she tried gently.

"Get on the fucking bed!"

Rachel blinked back her shock but did as told. Chloe wasted no time in stripping their clothes off and resuming her place at Rachel's apex. The girl's legs slid over her shoulders, and she grabbed Chloe's hair, whimpering with each hard path Chloe's mouth took. Rachel tasted like blood - it took Chloe a moment to realize it was from her own busted lip.

Rachel came quickly, shouting and gripping Chloe's hair, pulling out strands when her hips bucked violently. Chloe left her cunt and straddled Rachel's thigh, her own rubbing across Rachel's slit. Chloe's hand went to Rachel's neck, and the girl's hazel eyes met hers. Between gasps, Rachel panted, "I love you."

Chloe didn't know if she believed her. She wasn't even sure if she cared. She tightened her grip on Rachel's neck, beginning a hard pace across Rachel's thigh. It was painful even with her wetness, but Chloe didn't care. She was finding it hard to care about much at that moment.

Rachel's fingers gripped Chloe's wrist, tightening the squeeze, rasping and gasping with each flex of Chloe's hand. Chloe came watching Rachel's eyes water, the tears sliding down the side of her face, matting the hair at her temple. Their eyes held one another, Rachel's bloodshot and trembling. Chloe clenched her hold one last time, and Rachel came, her face red and her shouts stuttered.

Chloe released her, horrified at her actions, and Rachel gasped. The blonde held her neck, coughing and drooling as she rolled to her side. Chloe slid off of her leg and sat, watching Rachel attempt to catch her breath as she furled into a fetal position. When Rachel's gasps petered out, she managed a rough growl. "I love you, Chloe."

Chloe let out a little noise she couldn't identify. "Come on," she muttered, getting to her feet and helping Rachel up. "We need a shower."


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

 

"It's not even that bad."

Chloe stared pointedly at Rachel before looking at the front-end of Rachel's car. "Dude. It looks like you ran over a bear." It was an exaggeration, but Rachel's bumper had definitely gone through the ringer if the ringer involved a wooden barricade. Not to mention, Chloe kept reminding herself, someone died. The fire was now, on top of an arson, an active homicide investigation.

"Drama queen," Rachel sighed, running a hand through her long hair, grimacing. "Fine. Fine! I know a guy; he can do it quick and under the table." She was on the phone before she had even finished the sentence, climbing into the car. Chloe got into the passenger seat just as Rachel started the ignition. "Hey, Mikey, I'm bringing my car around for a transmission flush. Yep. Yes. Cool, see you in thirty."

Chloe frowned at her when she hung up. "Transmission?"

"Code. He's kind of sketch, but he does a good job."

"Holy shit, you _are_ in the mob, aren't you?"

Rachel snorted, reversing out of her parking spot. "Hardly. I _do_ have some connections, though - hard not to when I dated a drug dealer for over seven years."

"Well, at least something good -- wait," Chloe stopped herself, distracted. "Dated, as in...?"

Rachel's smile was like a breath of fresh air that Chloe had desperately needed. "What kind of girlfriend would I be if I kept seeing the asshole who tried to kill you?"

"I'm fairly sure he was trying to kill you."

Rachel shrugged. "Semantics."

 

* * *

 

Mikey lived in a crude house about a mile from Santa Monica beach, so the pair spent the day wandering along the boardwalk. Their lunch of tequila shots and lime-crusted chips didn't set well on Chloe's stomach, but the buzz and hum of the pier distracted her from that.

"Wanna go on the Ferris wheel?" Rachel asked tipsily, nearly flailing into a bike rental kiosk.

Chloe looped her hand around Rachel's arm, hauling her back and offering the shop owner an apologetic smile. "I hate heights."

Rachel leaned heavily on her and Chloe's arm moved to her waist, keeping her as steady as possible. "Me, too. I just figured, you know... why not? Fears are just in our head. Fears are pointless."

Their path had turned toward the massive, slowly circling wheel, Chloe's hands prickling with sweat. "Fears keep you from doing stupid shit."

"Sure, but how stupid is going on a ride millions and millions of people go on every day?"

"Pretty sure that's not even close to accurate," Chloe mumbled but knew she would give in to Rachel. She always gave in.

The Ferris wheel was horrifying, and Chloe hated it from the second it lurched into the air, allowing the next people into the gondola behind them. "This is possibly the worst thing I have ever done," she complained, glancing over the bucket's side and down to the pier below.

"Watch the ocean," Rachel said helpfully, leaning her head onto Chloe's shoulder. Her phone buzzed against Chloe's hip, and she grumbled, fishing the cell from her pocket. She frowned at the incoming call, brows furrowed. It was a local number, but the look on Rachel's face said that she didn't recognize it.

"It might be a commercial or gig or something, " Chloe said, eyes never leaving the ocean as they staggered into motion.

"No, my agent would call me," she murmured, silencing her phone and shoving it back into her pocket. "Anyway, what's next?"

Chloe puffed. "You make it sound like we're making it off of this thing alive."

"Drama queen," Rachel said, not for the first time, and her head returned to Chloe's shoulder, hand lacing with hers.

 

* * *

 

Rachel bought an insanely large unicorn hat, the horsehead jutting out from her hair like a muzzle-shaped pompadour. The long ribbons trailing from its horn kept getting tangled up in her blonde hair each time the wind blew, and some of the glitter had fallen onto her cheeks and bared shoulders. She looked ethereal - Chloe was pretty sure that no one had ever managed to look good while wearing a horse head, but Rachel pulled everything off.

"You'd look hot with streaks," Chloe said as they ambled away from the hat store, skin yearning for the air conditioning again. She curved an arm around Rachel's shoulders, pulling her in. Chloe hadn't expected the girl to be so openly relationship-y with her, not in such a public place. From what she had heard, Rachel would never let Frank touch her when they weren't in a club or his RV. Chloe smirked at the memory of slamming her steel-toed boot into Frank's ribs, a hand absently fiddling with a ribbon in Rachel's hair.

Rachel smirked, looking up at her. The blonde's forehead and cheeks were beginning to flush with a sunburn, the color making her hazel eyes spark. "Yeah? Pink or purple?" she asked, shaking her head to let the ribbons flutter.

"Between those two, purple. I think red would be better."

"Oh yeah?" she giggled, reaching up to flick one of the bells hanging from Chloe's jester hat. "Not sure I'm a streaks kind of girl, Price."

"You could do an under dye," she offered, trying not to groan at the mental image. It would look so good against her lacy, strappy bras and her summer-tanned skin.

"Oooh, I have always wanted a peek-a-boo," she grinned, glancing back at Chloe. "You know, you'd look hella hot in blue."

Chloe laughed, suddenly feeling awkward. She wasn't used to praise, especially not about her looks, but Rachel seemed intent to lavish it. It was getting easier not to scoff, but only just. "Not sure many employers in your neighborhood would appreciate it."

"First off, _our_ neighborhood. Second, fuck 'em," Rachel laughed, pulling Cloe to a stop. Her hands found Chloe's, holding them tightly. "Work for me."

"Work for you?" Chloe repeated dumbly. For the entire time Chloe had known Rachel - that hadn't been long, admittedly - she had never seen Rachel's source of income.

"I fired my last assistant ages ago," Rachel shrugged as if it was nothing. "You could be my assistant. Take my calls, order groceries, take out, pick what fundraisers I should go to, buy new clothes... you know. White-privileged-girl's-assistant things!"

Chloe laughed, unable to help it. "Sure, I guess. That mostly just sounds like being your super helpful girlfriend, though."

"With the benefit of pay, though."

Chloe's knee-jerk reaction was to turn it down, but she took a breath and grinned, leaning down to kiss Rachel. "Sure," she murmured against her mouth before another kiss. "But only if I can drive sometimes."

"Well, duh," Rachel snorted. "You've seen my road rage - I'd eventually kill us both in a fiery explosion of metal and shrieking."

"Well, that turned dark fast." Chloe pulled back, seeing a speck of glitter glistening on the side of her nose. She ignored it, though, and pulled Rachel along, glancing into shops. "As my first act of assisting, I proclaim we should get our hair dyed. Or tattoos, whichever costs less on this godforsaken stretch of expensive shit."

"Where else can people buy massive unicorn hats, Chloe?" Rachel teased, glancing down the strip before grinning. "There's a hair place. Ooo! They do makeovers! Chloe, we should get makeovers."

Chloe grimaced. She'd barely survived wearing mascara to the Amber Thanksgiving Disaster; she couldn't imagine how long it would last in the blistering sun. But Rachel looked excited, and Chloe was a sucker for the way her eyes widened and glistened.

"Lead away."

 

* * *

 

Chloe couldn't stop staring at Rachel's hair. Her makeover had been okay - too much eye makeup for Chloe's taste - but the hair made it. She looked as if the flames from the Rattlesnake Crossing fire had left a lingering mark. Chloe hated how often she thought of Rachel standing there, staring at her with a look so dark it made Chloe's stomach bottom out. She was beautiful. She was flawless. She was terrifying.

Rachel, for her part, couldn't stop reaching up to run her hands through Chloe's softly curled, very blue tresses. "I want to fuck you right here," she said more than once, making Chloe flush in appreciation and anyone standing close enough sputter or stare.

"You know what else would look hot?" Rachel asked, voice like a leopard purring. Or what Chloe _imagined_ a leopard purring sounded like. "A sleeve." When Chloe furrowed her brows, Rachel rolled her eyes. "Obviously I meant a tattoo. It's, like, a thousand degrees out."

Chloe felt a smile tugging at her lips. She _had_ always planned on tattoos once she had money. "You want to design it?"

Rachel's eyes sparkled. "You are making me so happy and weirdly horny."

Chloe snorted, glancing down at the ground. "One condition. I can design one for you."

"Deal!" she replied without a second of hesitation. "Come on, let's find the seediest place we can."

"Do you want sepsis?"

"We're too young and hot to die," she said with a surety Chloe couldn't understand.

 

* * *

 

They ended up at a tattoo parlor not far from Mikey's. The place was dingy and dark on the outside, but surprisingly clean when the pair got inside. Chloe glanced over the jewelry in the piercing cases, longingly gazing down at the 10g plugs. She had needed to update hers for ages - she was beginning to think they might have fused with her flesh at some point over the past ten years - but she wasn't about to ask Rachel for anything else. She knew Rachel would buy it without a thought, and that somehow made Chloe feel worse.

Rachel glanced up from where she was still sketching, frowning at Chloe. "Hey, did you finish your design already?"

"Yup," Chloe smirked, turning to her. "But the dude's touching it up for me."

"You mean drawing it for you?"

 _"Yes,_ but I did come up with the design, so. Fuck you."

Rachel snorted back a laugh and went back to her sketching. When she finished it, she handed it over to a second tattoo artist, grinning at her. "You'd better hope he doesn't put a nonsensical scribble on me, Price, or so help me, you're on laundry duty for life."

"For life?" Chloe repeated. She was glad she sounded blase, playful, because her heart hammered at the implication.

"For. Life," Rachel breathed, leaning it to secure a kiss.

"Rachel? You're up," the artist called, showing Rachel the design.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah?" the artist asked, looking between her and the snarling red dragon Chloe had requested. Flames and smoke licked around the sides of its mouth, a threat.

 _"Yes._ Definitely yes. Right calf," she added, hopping up onto the chair and laying on her side, grinning at Chloe. When the second artist showed Chloe the design Rachel made for her, her heart swelled. The vines and flowers were chaotic, just like their relationship. The skull was large, eye-catching. What wasn't eye-catching was the small coil of words in the middle of the vines, barely visible unless searched for.  _Rachel was Here._

 

* * *

 

Their fish and chips dinner wrapped up with a text from Mikey. It was getting close to midnight, some of the shops beginning to close down for the night, the rest pumping up the energy and losing some of the clothes. While Rachel showed no signs of stopping, Chloe was getting exhausted and close to praying for death.

"Wanna head over to Mikey's?" Rachel asked, swiping through her phone. "There's an Uber nearby."

"Thank God, I thought you were going to suggest walking there."

"At night?" Rachel scoffed, sliding her phone back into her pocket. "Let's go, Blue."

The Uber took them to Mikey's without a fuss, and Mikey turned over Rachel's keys without a fuss. Their drive home was uneventful aside from having the windows down and music up, thumping along the interstate faster than they should have. The night was crisp, and their drive across Highland smelled like freshly mowed grass. Chloe closed her eyes and could almost taste the salt from Arcadia Bay on her tongue, the smell transporting her to springtime afternoons playing catch with her dad in the park.

They got home, and Chloe went straight for the shower, Rachel calling that she'd be right there. Chloe had almost finished washing up when Rachel slid into the shower with her, looking pale in spite of the sunburn.

"What happened?" Chloe asked. "Is it Frank? Did Mikey-"

"No, no," Rachel mumbled, reaching out to touch the taped, plastic-wrapped tattoo on Chloe's arm. "That call earlier. It was a detective."

"What?" Chloe asked, her heart grinding to a halt. "When -- Rachel, _what?"_

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek and smiled humorlessly. "Tomorrow afternoon. They... they supposedly want to ask me a few questions."


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

They hadn't slept much through the night until their blatant abuse of alcohol made them pass out. Rachel was awake by the time Chloe pulled her head off of her pillow. For a blessed moment, Chloe forgot what had happened - what was happening. For a blessed second, Chloe was sleepy and happy in spite of the hangover, her skin delighting in soft sheets and Rachel's humming from the kitchen.

And then everything rushed back to her like a punch to the gut. She gasped, forgetting how to breathe, before getting out of bed and running into the kitchen. Rachel was flipping through one of her celebrity magazines, a half-eaten plate of fruit beside her.

"Rachel," Chloe began, but Rachel's calm gaze confused her into silence.

"I was going to make breakfast, but then I realized I don't want to move at all," Rachel said instead of a greeting. "If you're hungry, there's fruit and leftover pizza. Or I can make eggs if you twist my arm hard enough." She winked, coyly grinning, but Chloe couldn't appreciate the gesture.

"I think we should talk about this."

Rachel's smile seemed condescending around the corners. "Babe, I got this." She went back to flipping through the magazine. "We went up there to look down at the city - you haven't seen a lot of sights, after all. Things got heated, and we decided to fuck in the car. Simple." She plopped a piece of pineapple into her mouth. "Dad wants us to meet him for dinner after the questioning. And I should probably get ready; I doubt the police would appreciate me reeking of tequila, rum, and whatever it is we left on the stove."

Chloe tried her best to swallow her worries. "Mac and cheese. You left it in the oven for three hours."

"Jesus," she laughed, closing the magazine and tossing it into the trash can. "And we still ate it?"

"Oh yeah," Chloe sighed. That was probably why her stomach ached - _definitely_ not because they'd killed a guy and were about to be found out and thrown in jail.

Rachel saw something on Chloe's face because she murmured, "Go get on the bed. I didn't say good morning properly."

Chloe did as she was asked and faked an orgasm when all Rachel's mouth did was remind Chloe of that night in the back of her car, smelling like smoke and the forest.

 

* * *

 

They hadn't even made it to the front desk before someone spotted Rachel. "Ms. Amber, thank you for coming down," a balding man in a crisp gray suit greeted them when they came into the police station. "And Ms. Price! I'm glad you came, too. Can I get you two anything? Coffee? Soda? We have some chips in the vending machine - no candy bars because _Davis_ keeps eating them all," he called over his shoulder.

A woman - Davis, Chloe assumed - poked her head out of the office beside them and smirked at him. "I'm four months pregnant, you ass. I can't help the cravings."

The man laughed good-naturedly and turned back to them, his pleasant face bright and boyish. "Well then! This won't take too long; we just want to get some statements from the two of you."

"The two of us?" Rachel asked before Chloe could.

"Oh, yes, sorry. I guess I forgot to mention that part." The boyish smile had shifted slightly, something darker there. "We just got the full file of that Rattlesnake Crossing fire, and it seems like the PD found both of you near the site. Might as well hear your side while you're here - right, Ms. Price?"

Chloe kept her breath steady and her hands in her pockets. "Sure," she shrugged, hoping Rachel was wrong and that she could actually lie when she needed to.

"Perfect! Cooperation makes things so much easier. Ms. Amber? If you want to follow Detective Seeder -- Seeder! Where the fuck did he-"

 _"Christ,_ Randy, I am right here," the other detective called from the front desk, grabbing the visitor log and handing it to Chloe for her to fill out, and then Rachel. "Alright, Ms. Amber. Follow me."

Rachel left without a backward glance. Chloe needed to see her looking calm, to see her unflappable. But she didn't get to, so she swallowed and smirked up at the detective - R. Ferguson, according to his lapel. "Where we off to, Boss?"

The detective chuckled. "Right this way. Sure I can't get you something to drink or eat?"

Chloe wanted to say that she'd basically grown up on television and cop shows. The only reason they offered was to look friendly and watch for anxious sipping, excessive shaking on the soda cans, or picking at the food. "Nah, I'm good. Big brunch."

"Damn, sounds good," Ferguson said amiably, waving to someone who passed them. "Settle a bet for me. What's the _best_ breakfast that's basically a dessert - pancakes or waffles?"

"Waffles every time," Chloe answered easily, sliding into the interrogation room and sitting, breathing deeply and slowly. _Bitch, be cool,_ Chloe reminded herself - as she often did - with a movie quote.

"Ah, see, I don't like the crunchy bits, they hurt the roof of my mouth," he continued as he took the seat across from her, fiddling with a recording device on the table.

"That sounds like more of a _your-mouth_ problem than a waffles problem."

He laughed, the sound genuine, and turned the slender microphone toward her. "I'm going to record our conversation for the file, is that alright?"

Chloe shrugged again, her heart in her throat. "Sure thing."

"Alright," he said, flicking a switch and rifling through some papers in a manila folder. "This is in regards to case 2018-017038, the fire at Rattlesnake Crossing off of State Route 39. Can you state your full name and date of birth for me, please?"

"Chloe Elizabeth Price. March 11th, 1994."

"Thank you. So, Ms. Price. You are aware of the fire off of SR-39, I assume?"

"Well, yeah," Chloe forced a disbelieving laugh. "Who doesn't?"

"When did you first hear about the fire?"

Chloe tried to remember if Rachel had told her anything, had given her an alibi or a story. She hadn't; she didn't realize Chloe was going to be roped in, too, despite Chloe's constant worry. "Um. We, ah," she stammered, running a hand through her hair, pretending that she was smoothing it out of her eyes and not panicking. "I mean... Rachel and I... we're kind of...."

The detective narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "Please try to speak clearly, Ms. Price. How did you first find out about the fire?"

Chloe let out a sigh and leaned back into her chair. "Rachel and I are still in this... whatever. Honeymoon phase? Is that what's it called? Doesn't matter," she interrupted herself. "We haven't really felt like this about other people, so we kind of... I don't know. We like taking risks."

The detective raised a brow. "What kind of risks?"

Chloe bit her lower lip, allowing the corners to curve upward. "I hope I'm not about to be arrested for saying public sex."

Ferguson's brow twitched. "Go on."

Chloe sighed, deciding to stick as close to the truth as she could. "I haven't seen a lot of the cool shit -- sorry, stuff -- here in LA, so Rachel wanted to show me the view from the mountains. We went up onto 39 and parked, looked at buildings and the lights and shit -- _stuff._ Held hands. You know. Couple-y things."

"You can curse, Ms. Price, it's fine. So how did you hear about the fire?"

"Rachel and I were getting handsy in the back of her car," Chloe grumbled. "We heard the sirens, so we froze. Then we heard someone yelling outside of the car. We saw the lights, so we knew it was you guys. The cops, I mean. So Rachel opened the door, the cop saw what was... going on," she mumbled, shifting in her chair, hoping she looked uncomfortable and not terrified. "Dude, seriously, we didn't know there was a fire until they told us. We'd been there a few hours and didn't see anything weird."

"So what happened after the police told you to leave?"

"Nothing. We went home, watched the fire on the TV, a few comedies to calm us down, and had some drinks. Vodka, I think."

"Why did you need to calm down?"

Chloe looked at him as if he was insane. "Man, were you not listening? We were just trying to fool around in her car, and suddenly we have armed dudes yelling at us, and some fire somewhere above us? No thanks," Chloe laughed, shaking her head. _"Why did we need to calm down._ Jesus."

"So, you drove through the barricade to get up the mountain, right?" Ferguson asked, tapping his useless pen against a paperless desk.

Chloe bit the inside of her cheek. "Can I plead the fifth?" Before he could answer, she added, "Yeah, Rach blew through it. To be fair, though, most of it had already been knocked down, and that turn is sharp. How are people supposed to see that?"

"They're not supposed to be up there," he supplied.

Chloe winced. "Right."

Ferguson looked through his manila folder. "About when did you get to SR-39?"

Chloe took a moment to answer, heart hammering. _Stick close to the truth,_ she reminded herself. "Dusk-ish, I think? Maybe a little earlier. Hard to tell with all of that light pollution."

He nodded, flipping to the next page. "Ms. Price, it seems like you have a juvenile record?"

That gave her pause, surprising her more than it probably should have. "It's sealed," Chloe replied tersely.

"Sure, sure. I mean, we could always unseal it if we needed to," Ferguson said, condescending and sweet. "Just in case you can't remember the details."

"Petty theft," she answered, setting her jaw. "A truck from a junkyard. I feel like things in a junkyard can't be considered private property, but that asshole running the place begged to differ. The thing was a piece of shit, didn't work at first. _I_ was the one to get it running again."

"Alright, petty theft auto. Anything else?"

"I think I forged my mom's signature a few times on report cards."

"Anything that pertains to your numerous trips to juvie?"

"I stole a PS3 from a Costco -- _tried_ to seal a PS3, I guess. I grabbed as many packs of cigarettes as I could from a Rite-Aid while the cashier wasn't looking; too bad the manager was right there." She sighed, trying to remember her extensive past with the fuzz. "Some asshole held me in his back office for three hours after I _accidentally_ pocketed a bottle of nail polish."

"Accidentally," he repeated dryly.

"Yeah, man! It was one of those two-dollar Walmart brands, why the fuck would I legit pocket it?" A lie. She legit pocketed it. "And I think I managed to sneak out of a Spencer's Gifts with a hundred dollars of dildo-related gag gifts... wait, did I get caught for that?" she asked herself, glancing at the ceiling. She counted her breaths for a moment while she feigned thinking. "I'm not sure, man. It was a long time ago."

"But it was all theft?"

"Yep."

He sighed and continued flipping through the scant pages. "Would Rachel Amber have any reason to go to Rattlesnake Crossing?"

Chloe blinked. "I... I wouldn't think so. She told me it was nothing but ghost towns and rockslides past where we stopped."

"So you, Ms. Price, were nowhere near Rattlesnake Crossing or that fire?"

"God no. There are bears up there."

"More likely to run into a cougar up there, actually."

Chloe didn't have to fake her horror. "Are you fucking serious?"

Ferguson squinted and leaned back in his chair, watching Chloe closely. "You know, hiding information is sometimes just as dangerous as doing it yourself." When Chloe said nothing, he nodded. "Just wanted to let you know - aiding and abetting means you're an accessory."

"I get it, dude," Chloe moaned, crossing her arms. "You want to close this shit up nice and tight, and we're the only ones you can pin it on. But the fact remains, I didn't do anything. Rachel didn't do anything. We just wanted to bang it out somewhere we weren't supposed to."

Ferguson didn't blink as he watched her. He finally cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Price, I think that's all for now. Can I get you something while you wait for your friend?"

"Nah, I'm good. I can't imagine she'll take too long." Chloe stood and left without her escort, coming to the lobby and finding a cool and collected Rachel already there, sipping a diet soda and grimacing at the taste.

"Hey babe," Rachel greeted her, no sign of concern on her face. "I thought we could run by your old place and get that stuff out to Skid. You're supposed to turn in keys tomorrow, yeah?"

"Fuck, I forgot all about it," Chloe mumbled. It had felt like a century since they packed up her old apartment. "When are we having dinner with-"

"Danielle?" Rachel interrupted, her face hardening minutely. "Seven. We've got time." She looped her arm through Chloe's, and they left the police station. Chloe stayed quiet while Rachel prattled about useless things - how her tattoo was starting to itch and wasn't it much too soon to be at the itching phase? - until they reached the car.

As soon as the door closed, Rachel let out an anxious breath. "What did you tell them?" she asked softly as she turned the car on, slowly driving them out of the parking garage.

"As much of the truth as I could," Chloe shrugged. "We went up there to bone and look at the view. You broke down the barricade but it was already partially gone, and we could barely see it around that corner."

"Oh thank God. That's it?" Rachel asked, risking a glance at Chloe as she pulled out into traffic. "Nothing about the woods or the fire?"

"Of course not," Chloe replied nonchalantly - as nonchalantly as she could. "We didn't go anywhere near that place, let alone start a fire."

Rachel let out a relieved sigh, her grip loosening on the steering wheel. "Damn straight, Price. Damn straight."

 

* * *

 

Rachel's father hadn't spoken much during dinner, but there was a tight set to his jaw and his brow's creases deepened by the minute. Finally, as Rachel reached for a bottle of wine, James said, "You two need to go out to a movie after this. Get drinks after. Stay in public. Do you hear me?"

Rachel's brow matched her father's. "What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to fix your mistakes," he replied, his voice oddly soft for the words. "Be in places with cameras, do you understand?"

"What's going on?" Rachel asked, lowering her voice. Rose was out with friends, so Chloe wasn't sure why everyone was whispering.

"Just go," he sighed, reaching for the wine bottle and swigging from it. "Let me handle this."

 

* * *

.

And so they did as told. By the time the terrible rom-com movie was over, Rachel and Chloe were more than happy to stop in a posh hipster bar for overpriced beers. They had moved into a hookah bar after that, almost forgetting James Amber's moody dismissal.

And then phones throughout the lounge went off, a high, warbling noise that everyone moved to silence as soon as possible.

**FIRE ALERT**  
**Structure Fire; INC#2018-120476; 11:57 PM; Downtown LA; 42 FFs in 16 minutes; abandoned warehouse on the corner of Bedford St and Cadillac Ave; No reported injuries; Cause/Loss TBD**

Chloe turned horrified eyes onto Rachel's sunburn-splotched face. Rachel's mouth pursed as she shoved her phone into her pocket. She swallowed and ducked her head, murmuring, "It was Dad, wasn't it?"

Chloe could only nod.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

 

The detectives were at their door by seven am. Unfortunately for Rachel and Chloe, they had just managed to fall asleep after a night of drinking, sitcoms, and not talking.

"Good morning Price, Amber," Ferguson greeted them congenially. He waved a white paper bag, smiling. "Doughnuts. Why don't we share down at the precinct?"

Rachel grumbled, leaning her head onto Chloe's shoulderblade. "Is this a thing that's happening now? Isn't this some weird form of harassment? I know we're cute and all, but we are very happily gay with each other."

"Is this about that fire last night?" Chloe interrupted, wrapping her arms over her bare belly. She somehow kept ending up in her underwear in front of older men and, unlike Rachel, she was not used to it.

"Why don't you two get dressed; we'll chat down at the office."

Chloe saluted as she shut the door in their faces. When she turned back to Rachel, the girl rolled her eyes. "Three hours, tops, then we get lunch."

"Something greasy," Chloe added, a little louder than necessary, hoping it carried through the thick wooden door. "After those shots, I need something to make my liver forget about alcohol poisoning."

Rachel laughed, and they moved into the bedroom, their forced grins sliding off of their faces as they walked.

 

* * *

 

The detectives let them go after two and a half hours, just as Rachel had expected. Once the men had secured the videotapes of the girls' nighttime antics, they had no choice.

"They definitely think it was us," Chloe mumbled over her fatty bowl of pho.

"They think it was _me,_ but yeah, you're roped in for sure." She pushed her teriyaki around absently, anxious.

The pair sat in silence, the waitstaff giving them complete privacy. The only other patron was a bedraggled man with a plate of rice, - only rice - which he wasn't eating.

"What's his story?" Chloe murmured, trying to cheer Rachel up with one of the blonde's favorite public pastimes.

Rachel glanced over and looked away quicker than usual, her lips pursing. "He's trying to get into a gang and failing poorly. Probably running some type of small-fry drug thing to pay the bills and build up cred."

Chloe nodded. "I can see that."

The guy got up and went into the back toward the bathrooms and kitchen. Chloe lost interest, choosing to focus on slurping her soup. The headache haunting her was beginning to fade between the food and sodas she'd downed, so she noticed that Rachel was biting her lip, teeth tearing at a sudden outbreak of chapped, cracked skin.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked, not turning to look at the guy as he left the bathroom off of the kitchen, exiting the restaurant at a loping gait.

"Hmm?" she asked, glancing at Chloe before forcing a smile. "Sorry, just kind of... distracted. A guy died."

Chloe nodded, suddenly not hungry. The thin slices of seared chicken in her soup were beginning to look like skin. She leaned back from the bowl and ran a hand through her hair, rubbing her neck. "I need a joint... or at least a cigarette."

Rachel passed her the pack and lighter she kept in her back pocket. "Go ahead; I'll pay."

Chloe grabbed the offerings gratefully, leaning over the small table to kiss Rachel's cheek before departing.

 

* * *

 

When James Amber summoned them to a late lunch, Rachel and Chloe tore across town in spite of having eaten more than their guilty stomachs could handle. They found James in the backyard, smoking a cigarette and pacing.

"Inside," he said without pretense, smashing the cigarette out in an empty flowerpot. They filed in, Rachel seeming unflappable. Chloe, on the other hand, couldn't stop picking at the skin around her nails, more than a few of them darkened around the cuticles with dried blood.

James went to the fridge and grabbed three beers, opening them with vicious flicks of the bottle opener before handing them out. "There's an investigation into you two."

Rachel stared at him, not touching the beer. "No shit. What the fuck was that fire? What about the other fires - the three warehouses?"

James narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "These are your loose ends, Rachel. Someone needs to clean them up."

"I didn't ask you to do this!" Rachel hissed, voice lowering. "I never asked you to do this!"

James Amber ran a hand over his face, jaw set. Chloe sipped her beer stiffly, heart thundering. Finally, Mr. Amber spoke in a low, grating tone. "This is part of the job, Rachel. This is part of being _your_ father." His eyes rose to Chloe. "You were supposed to keep her out of trouble."

"Don't take this out on her! She didn't do anything; this was all me."

"I know it was, Rachel, and that's the worst part," he snapped. _"It was you._ Chloe didn't do anything, and now she's roped into a manslaughter investigation. Forget me, forget Rose - did you even think what this would do to her?"

Rachel's face paled, and Chloe reached out to touch her arm. "Rachel-" she tried.

"Fuck you," she hissed, startling Chloe until she realized Rachel directed the words at James. "You have no right-"

"I have every right!" he yelled. "Do you realize what situation you've put _me_ in, Rachel? How badly this could end for all of us? Rose is innocent, but she'll be dragged through the fucking coals if this gets out. We will lose _everything."_

Rachel swallowed and put her untouched beer on the counter with a sharp click. "Did you call us over here to scream at me, or what?"

A muscle near James' eye twitched. Chloe watched it, steeling herself for the anger, for the hate. She'd seen the expression on her stepdad's face on many occasions. But it didn't come. James' face fell, and he took a deep pull from his beer. "Ferguson is keeping an eye on you two from a distance, so you can't be seen around here often. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, but nothing before. You wait for me to invite you, Rachel. _You wait._ Do you understand?"

"Yes," Rachel replied through gritted teeth.

"You don't call me. You only text me with mundane things - money problems, info about upcoming gigs. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Keep your heads down. Stick to your normal schedules, don't vary too much. Try to be in public as much as you're understandably able. Understood?"

"Yes!" Rachel groaned, turning and moving toward the door.

"Rachel!" James snapped but gave up before her name fully left his lips. He turned pained eyes onto Chloe. "You understand that you need to rein her in, don't you? She needs a tight leash or else..." he trailed off. "No fuck-ups this time."

Chloe nodded guiltily, putting her bottle on the counter and jumping when Rachel slammed the front door behind her. "She's... persuasive."

James snorted. "You have no idea, Chloe." After a pause, he added, "Or maybe you do. Go on. She might be mad enough to leave without you."

Chloe didn't need convincing to flee the house and into Rachel's car. Rachel looked surprisingly calm for her prior demeanor. "So," Rachel began, her voice a little hoarse, "Night in?"

"Night in," Chloe agreed gratefully.

Rachel tapped her phone and music blared through the speakers, loud bass and shouting making the car rattle. She backed out of the driveway and hit the freeway going twenty over the speed limit. Chloe swallowed down her nerves and gripped the handle above the window.

 _You understand that you need to rein her in, don't you?_ James had asked. Chloe hadn't said it then, but she knew controlling Rachel was not something she was equipped to do.

 

* * *

 

Rachel and Chloe did as asked; they went out for drinks at their usual haunts, saw movies, and went to shows. Even though the police hadn't pulled them in since the second interrogation, Rachel had become twitchy and anxious, always looking around their surroundings with something only slightly better than paranoia.

Chloe didn't mention it. Whereas Chloe had felt slightly better each time another fire broke out in an abandoned warehouse or building on the outskirts of the city, Rachel seemed to get more neurotic.

"These fucking fires. I hope they catch who's doing it soon," Chloe had told Rachel one night, the flickering flames from the sixth fire brightening their darkened living room. They had begun to talk in layers ever since Rachel had gotten the idea that the detectives had put surveillance in the apartment and car.

"Yeah," Rachel mumbled, tossing her half-eaten slice of pizza into the box and getting to her feet. She wandered to the bathroom, only coming back five minutes later and sniffling. The smoke from the fires had been wreaking havoc on her asthma.

Chloe watched her as she walked into the bedroom, pulling her tank top over her head as she did. It was a classic Rachel seduction move - no seduction at all. Not that Chloe needed much seduction.

She followed Rachel, as she always did, and proceeded to toss her onto the bed, delighting in the blonde's childlike laughter. She kissed along Rachel's ribs and the sharp dip to her belly, leaner than before. Rachel was panting, her hips undulating by the time Chloe managed to slide her panties off.

Chloe had been confused by Rachel's overexuberance, but some people responded to grief oddly. If the thing to change after the trauma of accidentally killing someone was Rachel's libido, Chloe had gotten very lucky.

Rachel would shout and buck, wheezing Chloe's name as her legs tightened around Chloe's neck, heels kicking against her spine. Chloe would wince but continue, speeding up, nipping and shoving, smacking and breathing encouragements.

When Rachel would come, it was like a bull smashing through a wooden gate. She shouted and reared; she wailed and pulled at Chloe's hair. Her pelvis smashed down into Chloe's face with enough force that she was always sure that her nose would break. But it never did, and Rachel would come down panting and pulling Chloe to her, breathlessly kissing her and caressing her face. Chloe would forget all of her worries about Rachel being addicted to pain or too mentally wounded by the fire when Rachel held her close.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

The evening of December 21st was a balmy 70 degrees when Rachel and Chloe picked Max up from the airport. Chloe and Max hugged like school children while Rachel kept the car idling in a loading-only zone.

"I can't believe you're here!" Chloe exclaimed, unable to help herself. They hadn't seen one another in nearly five years, but Max hadn't changed one bit - baby-faced and soft-spoken with bursts of uncontrollable excitement.

"No kidding!" she laughed, putting her bags into Rachel's trunk. "God, your hair is amazing!" She reached out, fingering a foppish bit of blue hair appreciative before lowering her voice to ask, "Are you sure it's cool for me to stay with you guys?"

"I can hear you," Rachel called through the opened windows. "And no duh! Chloe's friends are my friends and all that shit."

Max bit her lower lip to keep her smile from taking over her face. "Cool." She slid into the backseat, and Chloe hopped into the passenger, turning around to grin at Max. "We have reservations at this super pretentious hipster lounge you're going to love."

Max snorted, buckling her seat as Rachel cut off a shuttle van to get back into the flow of airport traffic. "You know me too well." She turned her attention to the rear-view mirror. "Rachel, it's really nice to meet you."

"Wait until you actually meet me," Rachel replied with a wink to the glass, making Chloe grin and Max laugh.

The drive consisted of Chloe and Max sniping back and forth about childhood. Their time at the table was more about Max the Snoop asking Rachel prying questions in a reporter-like fashion.

"So you're an only child?"

"Oh yeah. My dad left my mom when I was a baby, and my step-mom can't have kids."

"That sucks. I always wanted a sister."

"Gross," Chloe interjected, wincing.

"Whatever, I would have had a cool sister," Max shrugged, sipping her overpriced, hot-pink martini. "Rachel, what's your favorite place in LA?"

"Long Beach, no question," she grinned, but there was something about the curve of her brow that looked troubled. "We're gonna take you there Sunday night - there's some big pre-Christmas Eve thing at a tiki bar down there."

"Ooh, that sounds fun!"

"And we're going to do Christmas dinner with Rachel's folks, if you're cool with that," Chloe added. "Her step-mom is possibly the best cook ever."

Max's eyes widened comically, just as Chloe knew they would. Max was a sucker for food. "Like... better than Joyce?"

"Well, I've never had Rose's breakfasts, but her Thanksgiving dinner? Hell yes it's better. Don't tell Joyce," she added when Max's mouth dropped.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom, you guys catch up," Rachel said before either of them could offer to go with her. There were very few stereotypical _girl things_ that Rachel enjoyed, but the hallowed _Bathroom Buddies Rule_ was one of them. She was gone quickly, disappearing in the moody lighting.

Max didn't seem alarmed, but Max didn't know Rachel yet. Chloe stared after her, brow furrowing, not hearing a word Max was saying. "I'll be right back," Chloe interrupted her story about a photo shoot she'd gone on. She was out of her chair and jogging toward the bathroom before her brain caught up to her legs.

Chloe had known, deep down, what she'd find. Subconsciously, she probably knew from the start. That knowledge didn't help when she discovered Rachel snorting white powder from the bathroom's pristine countertop.

"Rachel, what the fuck?!" Chloe snapped, striding toward her and tearing the slender stirring straw from her, tossing it to the ground.

Rachel's eyes were wide, but she didn't seem as surprised as Chloe had expected. "Chloe, it's just coke," she said quickly as if that was better.

"Fucking Christ, Rachel," she wheezed, sweeping the rest of the powder off of the counter and to the floor. "What the fuck?!"

"I couldn't take it!" she replied, reaching toward Chloe. "All the alcohol was making it worse, the pot stopped helping, and I needed _something._ Something to take the edge off. It's better than heroin, I swear!"

Chloe stepped back and away from her seeking hands, crossing her arms over her suddenly cold chest. She could feel all of her body's heat rising behind her eyes, the horrible desire to break into frantic sobs. Rachel reached for her again, and Chloe smacked her hands away, harder than she meant to. Rachel didn't recoil, instead moving in with her whole body. She wrapped Chloe in her arms, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know... I know it's stupid, I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"Maybe not get hooked on blow?" Chloe replied hotly, bristling in Rachel's arms but not pulling away. "Maybe talk to me?"

Rachel's lips ghosted across Chloe's clavicle. "I'll go back to rehab."

"No fucking shit you will," Chloe snorted and laughed humorlessly at the same time, the sound coming out like a gunshot. "Tomorrow."

"When Max is gone," Rachel said quickly, pulling back with pleading eyes. "Please don't -- I don't want anyone else to know."

Chloe ran a hand through her hair, not knowing what else to do, and Rachel added quickly, "I won't get any more. I won't. I'll wean off as much as I can and then go to rehab when I'm empty. Okay?"

"Who did you buy from?" Chloe asked, not sure why it mattered. "Frank?"

"No," she said quickly. "No, I didn't -- I went to an old dealer I had in college."

"The guy in the pho restaurant," Chloe realized suddenly. "Fuck, Rachel. Since then?" Rachel looked guilty, but there was something firey rising in her gaze, too. She was beginning to get mad, and a hipster bar was not the place for their fight.

"Whatever," Chloe snapped, turning on her heel and marching back to their table. Max looked worried, especially when Chloe called the waitress over to request Belgian beers for the table and three double-whiskeys for herself.

"Is everything okay?" Max asked softly.

Chloe watched Rachel come out of the bathroom and replied coldly, "Peachy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, the photos used for the chatheads are thanks to Creative Commons. The sources for those pictures are:  
> [Max](https://pixabay.com/en/photographer-tourist-snapshot-407068/), [Rachel](https://pixabay.com/en/blonde-hair-fashion-girl-hipster-1867378), [Chloe](https://t3.ftcdn.net/jpg/01/72/68/02/240_F_172680244_EA1kem6lISIypVLod9dgbjbiZGC9nE3s.jpg)


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

 

The drive home was silent. Rachel went into her bedroom without anything aside from, "'Night, Max!" Chloe looked after her with the same hot feeling in her throat, but the alcohol had somehow numbed her past the point of wanting to fight. She smiled a tight good-night to Max, leaving her awkwardly and confusedly loitering by the immaculately made-up couch bed.

Chloe went to the bathroom, not ready to see Rachel yet. She turned the shower on just as the sobs wrenched themselves from her mouth. She opened the glass door and sank onto the tiles, fully clothed, gasping and hiccuping in the scalding water.

She wasn't sure how long she sat in the shower before the door opened. Chloe could see Max through the frosted glass, but only just. "Can I pee?" Max asked.

"Go for it," Chloe replied, glad that her voice didn't sound too hoarse.

Max did her business and flushed the toilet, washing her hands before opening the shower door. "Can I come in?"

Chloe let out a sigh and scooted further into the large shower. Max came in, sitting beside Chloe, her jeans soaking up the water on the flooring. "What's going on, Chloe?" she asked softly.

Chloe opened her mouth to lie - _N_ _othing, why? I love sitting in the shower and ruining the best clothing I own._ \- but choked out, "Rachel's using. I caught her in the restaurant."

"In the bathroom?" Max guessed. She didn't sound surprised.

"Yep," Chloe laughed humorlessly. "I don't know what to do. She wants to go to rehab once you're gone. She didn't want you to know. Guess I ruined that one, huh?"

Max was quiet for a long time before scooting around and pulling Chloe into a fierce hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Chloe shrugged, but the tears began again. Max held her close, letting her cry against her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

The days had passed quickly in spite of the eggshells they were all walking on. Max was probably the reason their entire situation was bearable; she was cheerful and gentle, her innocence setting Chloe - and even Rachel - at ease. They went out on tours around the town for the first two days, to fancy science centers and museums, the piers and beaches.

Rachel had been twitchy, randomly irritable and frequently wandered away from the group to smoke. Every time she left them for a public bathroom, Chloe feared that she was refilling her blow-tank. She stayed silent, though, in the hopes that Rachel was being honest about weaning off.

_You understand that you need to rein her in, don't you?_

The 23rd came quickly and, before Chloe knew it, they were cruising toward Long Beach for the pre-Christmas-Eve beach party. It was loud and chaotic, but Max blended into the crowd without effort, dancing with random boys and girls, drinking her fair share of tequila, and even doing a shot out of one of the waitresses' bellybutton. It was fun in spite of Rachel continuously disappearing. Chloe ignored it, instead falling into the easy sound of Max's laughter and their bumping dances that probably looked infinitely worse than they thought.

When Chloe finally detached herself from the throng of dancers and made her way to Rachel, the girl was glassy-eyed and far-off. She was sitting on the beach with the same drink she'd been nursing all night.

"Are you high?" she asked, sinking onto the sand next to the large wooden chair Rachel occupied.

Rachel snorted, head lolling to meet Chloe's gaze. "Chloe, I'm always high."

Chloe swallowed and watched the waves break where the ocean melded into darkness. At least she was honest about it, but it somehow hurt worse than when she lied. Rachel didn't have the will to keep pretending. "Go to rehab. Tonight."

"No."

Chloe grit her teeth and said the words that made her entire being burst apart at the seams. "Then we're over."

Rachel was silent for so long that Chloe thought she'd fallen asleep. But Rachel let out a choked noise, and Chloe looked up at her. Rachel's eyes were swimming in tears, her hand on her forehead as if she might faint. "It's finally happened," she barked out in a pained gasp. "You're scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," Chloe corrected. She was so tired. She was so tired of fighting with Rachel, of watching her waste away. Her cheeks were hollowing. Her ribs were beginning to show. "I'm scared of what that shit is doing to you."

"What happened to unconditional?" Rachel whispered.

"Fuck, Rachel," Chloe snapped, turning sharply on her. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to make me feel guilty for - for caring about you?"

Rachel blanched before looking up at the stars. "My mom brought me here all the time, once I got out of rehab. Not _here_ here, down the beach a bit," she nodded absently toward their left. "We watched the water, the stars. She loved it here. I guess that's why I like it."

Before Chloe could get up and return to the dance floor, Rachel slid off of the chair and onto the sand, sinking into Chloe's arms. "I'll go," she whispered against Chloe's neck, her lips dry, the chapped skin scraping across Chloe's throat. "I'll go tonight."

Chloe wrapped her in a fierce hug, kissing her cheek. "Thank you."

Rachel smiled sadly when she pulled back, reaching into her pocket and producing a cigarette. She smoked as she requested an Uber, pocketing her phone. "They don't let people use their phones in there, so you'll have to call the front desk. Rosehill - I was there before."

Chloe nodded, taking her free hand and squeezing it. "I love you, Rachel. Unconditionally. I just can't -- I can't see you like this."

They sat quietly until Rachel's phone buzzed in her back pocket. Rachel handed Chloe her half-smoked cigarette, her car keys, and then hugged her. "I love you," Rachel mumbled against her lips. "Unconditionally."

Chloe believed her, and that made it even harder to release her. "Get going," Chloe breathed, squeezing her hands one last time. "I'll call you tomorrow morning."

Rachel nodded, pressing her forehead to Chloe's before pulling back. She walked up the beach and toward the parking lot, hair glinting in the tiki torches around the bar.

Chloe stayed on the beach, tossing Rachel's keys up in the air and catching them, chainsmoking the entire pack. When Max found her, they sat quietly beside one another, watching the tide lick across the sand, sliding closer and closer to them.

 

* * *

 

Another fire broke out that night, bright and thick, the skyline tinged in dirty brown smoke. Chloe watched it from the living room window while Max made a snack in the kitchen.

"You could call her now if you wanted," Max suggested softly, too sweet for words.

Chloe shook her head. "They won't let me talk to her at four am."

"I guess not," Max acquiesced, coming to stand beside her with two halves of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She offered Chloe one half, and she took it, eating without tasting as she watched the smoke billow.

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry, Ms. Price; she isn't here."

Chloe's limbs went cold, her heart stuttering. "What do you -- she should have gotten there around two am. Did you get the name right? Rachel Amber. Maybe even Rachel Dawn - sometimes she goes by that."

"I'm sorry. Are you sure she came here? There are a lot of rehabilitation centers in Los Angeles."

"No, Rosehill. She was there before, a few years back. I-" Chloe broke off before she lost her voice. "Thanks. I'll try later."

"Of course. We can have her call you when she gets in - is this a good number?"

"Yeah, please. Thanks."

"Of course, Ms. Price."

"Yeah," Chloe mumbled, ending the call and sinking onto the couch. She stared at the blank television screen before making a call she had been dreading.

"Mr. Amber, this is Chloe Price."

 

* * *

 

The search party that Mr. Amber called for was extensive. Chloe and Max had spent most of their waking hours canvassing the seedier parts of Los Angeles in hopes of finding her in a drug den. Chloe had given the dealer's description to the police, and they had found him - Nicholas Feerdy, supposedly - but Nicholas knew nothing. James Amber himself questioned every business within a five-mile radius of the tiki bar.

Christmas morning, James Amber woke Max and Chloe from where they had fallen asleep in Rachel's bedroom. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his jaw clenched. "They found her."

One look at James and Chloe let out a sharp, horrifying sound. She knew. Some part of her had known that this would be how things happened. They would find her. Find her body. Max grabbed her shoulders and tried to hold her, but Chloe was off of the bed and struggling into her boots, her hands shaking too much to manage the laces. "Where?" she gasped.

"On the beach," he replied softly.

They were out of the door within five minutes, Rose's sobbing the only sound. Chloe's eyes kept leaking, but no sound came out. Nothing could be said. Nothing could be done. There was no point.

Seeing her surrounded by tape, by police, by ogling bystanders, was the worst part of it. Chloe broke away from James and Max, running toward the one slender hand she could see hanging over the beach chair's arm.

Eyes closed. Lips parted. Skin pale. Chloe stared at her, remembering the way her eyes would move beneath her lids while she slept. How her lips would curve into a delicious smile, so wicked and playful. How she spent more time than she would ever admit in the sun, looking for a perfect year-long beach glow.

Chloe stood there long after Mr. Amber left, following the morgue's van and Rachel's body within it. She stood there long after the police and gawkers left. She stood there, too stunned to cry, horrified at the memory of the plunger in Rachel's arm. Overdose. That was the on-scene cause of death. They hadn't ruled out suicide, though, and the thought of Rachel taking her own life made Chloe's heart shrivel up inside of her.

_You understand that you need to rein her in, don't you?_

Chloe didn't know how she managed to get home, but she assumed Max had something to do with it. Max had been quiet the entire day but had also spent the whole day carefully watching and anticipating Chloe's needs from afar. Max ordered Chinese, and the pair sat in front of the television, a silly sitcom playing in front of them. Chloe and Rachel had watched the family's antics, too; the people that were too absurd to seem real. Caricatures. So many caricatures.

All Chloe could think of was how all of those characters would never know what it was like to watch a loved one spiral into oblivion. They would never know the pain of losing someone to an overdose. No one died in taboo ways. No one had fucked up relationships that fed off of conflict and ruthless, unconditional, painful love.

Chloe moaned, curling in on herself, the numb disbelief gone, the hot tears finally coming. She wrapped her arms around her knees and cried in loud, yelping sobs. Max set the food aside in an instant, her arms encircling Chloe's jumping shoulders, her lips finding Chloe's cheek.

"I'm so sorry," Max repeated the only words she'd uttered all day.

Chloe turned to wrap her arms around Max, not sure if she could ever let go.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
